Steve Among the Amazons
by stars-and-scribbles
Summary: When the Germans wreak havoc on the beaches of Themyscira, suspicion falls on the only surviving man. Steve Trevor is sentenced to train in the Amazons' ways until he has earned their trust. Steve's not sure what to make of this paradise, including the young woman who saved his life. But anything's better than the hell he left behind. AU where ANTIOPE LIVES, eventual WonderTrev!
1. Prologue

_**In the words of Mushu from Disney's Mulan: "I LIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEE!"**_

 _ **Hello friends! I have returned from the depths of not writing (shameful, I know). So sorry about that. I got real lazy over the summer, then school started up again...But here I am, and here is me first multi-chapter fic! Dedicated to all ye wonder women and men...especially the WonderTrev shippers :)**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW**_

All he had time to register was the butt end of a spear coming straight for his face, and a brilliant flash of pain as something connected with his cheek.

 _Swish...THWACK!_

And just like that, Steve Trevor found himself lying flat on his back, squinting up at the cerulean sky through a reddish haze. A circle of female faces swam at the edges of his vision, every brow wrinkled with a sort of incredulous expression.

"I did not even strike him with all my strength, General," he heard a deep voice saying.

There was a high laugh from somewhere above him. "If he cannot take even one blow, he can never hope to learn our arts."

"Silence." The ringing tone of command. The General's face came into focus, blocking the glare of the sun from Steve's eyes. Her eyes were stern, her jaw set in a grim line.

"Get up, soldier."

Stifling a groan, Steve rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. His cheek was throbbing.

"Don't suppose you've got a beginners' class I could start with, instead?" he laughed weakly.

The stern-eyed woman ignored him. "Again."

The deep-voiced woman, the one he had been sparring with, held her spear in readiness. Sucking in a breath, Steve tried his best to imitate her posture.

At a word from the General, the stick swung at him again. This time, he managed to block it. His military training kicking in, he ducked under the next strike and landed a blow on the woman's leg.

She staggered. For about half a second.

Then she looked back up at him with a terrifying smile.

Steve closed his eyes...

 _Oh, shi-_

... and felt a blow in the stomach, then on the head.

And everything went black.

 _ **WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW**_

 _ **A/N: So what do you guys think? I know it's not too clear what's going on yet, but never fear! The next chapter will go back to Steve's arrival at Themyscira. Thanks for reading...and please please please review!**_


	2. On the Shores of Themyscira

_Two days earlier..._

* * *

Diana bent, weeping, over the body of Antiope. Strong, unstoppable Antiope. Now dying.

 _Because of me._

Suddenly, through the fog of misery that clouded her senses, she heard a frightened voice. "Wait! Move aside. My Queen, please, let me..."

Diana turned and recognized her childhood friend Althaia, the most skilled Amazon in the healing arts of Themyscira. Her eyes were wide and hesitant.

Hippolyta's voice was thick and trembling. "Do what you can."

Determined now, Althaia knelt next to the fallen General, working with feverish intensity. Diana watched anxiously.

 _Please. Oh gods, please. Let her be alright._

And suddenly, Antiope gasped. Her eyes opened, her grip on Diana's arm tightening once more.

The Amazons cried out joyfully. Diana saw that tears were streaming down her mother's worn face.

"Quickly," Althaia was saying. "Take her up to the houses. The wound is deep, and must be cleansed."

But Antiope was still clutching Diana's arm. "Diana..."

Diana shook her head. "Save your strength," she said soothingly, kissing her aunt's forehead.

Then she realized Antiope's eyes were fixed on the man behind her.

The man she had saved from the sea. The only man still alive on Themyscira.

Hippolyta followed her sister's gaze. The Amazons watched as the expression on their Queen's face shifted from relief to rage. " _You_." Seizing her sword in one hand, she stood and moved in for the kill.

The man's eyes widened as he stumbled backward.

"No!" Diana shouted, flinging herself between the man and her mother's sword. "Mother, wait. This man fought by my side against the invaders."

"What kind of man fights against his own people?" demanded one warrior.

"These aren't my people," he said. But Diana saw he still clutched his weapon warily.

Hippolyta's eyes were cold. "Take him to the throne room."

Two women came towards the man. Just as he turned to run, Diana caught hold of his arm. He struggled.

"For your own good, do not resist," she warned in a low voice only he could hear. "Please."

Something told her that this man's destiny was not yet fulfilled. That he deserved to live. It was the same voice that had prompted her to dive into the sea and rescue him from a watery grave.

"Do you wish to share in their fate?" she whispered, with a pointed glance at the dead bodies around them.

He paused then. "Well, when you put it that way..."

The two guards had clamped hands on either of his shoulders. With a resigned air, the man went slack. His gun slumped onto the sand.

"Take him away," ordered Hippolyta.

As the man was marched off, he twisted around to lock eyes with Diana. She felt the need to nod encouragingly.

"Mother," she said, hesitantly, "you will not harm him, will you?"

The Queen of the Amazons did not reply.

* * *

Diana had never seen the Lasso's effects, outside of childhood bedtime stories. Now she knew why it was one of the most useful gifts of the gods.

At first, the man had been calm, defiant even. He said his name was Steve Trevor. He was a pilot. Nothing more.

Moments later, his face contorted with pain, he crumbled.

And the truth he spoke turned Diana's world upside down.

* * *

"Mother, we must do something," Diana was saying, as she paced the floor of the throne room. The man had been led away, handled none too gently by some of the more vengeful Amazons, whose sisters had been slaughtered in the battle.

"Do what, Diana?" Hippolyta sighed. "This is not our war. I will not risk the lives of more Amazons and leave Themyscira open to attack."

"But mother - "

" _You will do nothing._ " Suddenly, Hippolyta felt very old. Old, and weary. "As your queen, I forbid it."

Biting her lip, Diana dismissed herself. Hippolyta sighed as she watched her daughter go.

A voice came from behind her. "You cannot hope to keep her here forever, sister."

The Queen turned to see Antiope limp into the room, assisted by two women. Her entire torso was wrapped tightly in white linen. Yet she stood tall as ever.

Hippolyta smiled grimly. "It is good to see you on your feet. As to Diana, she is altogether too much like you. Eager for battle...but she does not know what we know now."

Antiope settled onto a bench, waving away the two women. "And what of this man? You cannot simply have him killed."

Hippolyta raised an eyebrow. "I should have thought you would hold your wounds against him."

Her sister shook her head. "I saw him as he fought by Diana on the beach. The man shows promise as a warrior."

"He is no warrior, but a deceitful spy. He cannot be trusted."

Antiope stood, moving to stand face to face with her sister. General and Queen.

"What if he were to earn our trust?" she asked. "We could teach him our ways, and thus guarantee his loyalty."

Hippolyta frowned worriedly. "His life in exchange for allegiance, you mean."

Antiope nodded. "And when we are sure of his character, we can decide whether his kind are worth fighting for."

A bark of harsh laughter. "Men will never be worth fighting for," Hippolyta scoffed. "They are the epitome of selfishness."

"Thousands of years have passed, my sister. Perhaps mankind has changed at last."

The Queen sank into her throne, deep in thought.

Finally she nodded. "It is as you suggest. There is but one way to find out."

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

Diana watched as Steve Trevor painstakingly clothed himself once more. She didn't understand why he had seemed so uncomfortable when she had walked into the cave of healing where he was imprisoned, nor why he was practically striking a pose under her gaze. _Must be some strange habit of man._

Diana shrugged and seated herself on a nearby stone. "So, why must you return to the war?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I gotta try. My father told me once, 'If you see something happening in the world, you can either do nothing, or you can do something'. And I already tried nothing."

They were both silent for a moment. Diana wondered what was behind the man's decision to "do something".

Suddenly, they were both startled by steps on the entrance stairs.

"Antiope!" Diana cried, embracing her aunt tenderly. Antiope was never one for affection, but just this once, Diana felt the battle-scarred arms tighten around her.

The General turned to the man, her face stern once more.

"I hope you enjoyed doing 'nothing', Steve Trevor," she said. "For you will certainly have much to do from now on."

"And what am I doing, again?" he asked, cautiously.

"You are to train as one of us, under my command. Only then can you and your people's fate be decided."

He frowned for a moment or two. Then he shrugged. "Sounds fair enough."

His tone said, _How hard can it be?_

Antiope smiled the grim smile Diana knew so well.

This man was no weakling, but he would soon learn how ruthless the life of an Amazon could be.

* * *

 ** _A/N: What do you guys think? I hope you liked this first chapter, and that it clarified what's going on. I know there was some confusion in the prologue. I'm planning to update once a week, most likely every Wednesday...but that's me being optimistic about my work ethic, haha. Anyway, please review, feedback always makes my day :) Thank you, and Happy Thanksgiving!_**


	3. The Final Decree

Steve Trevor awoke to the clear sound of trickling water.

A memory came over him: Waking in some stinking alley behind a pub, muscles still sore from a fight. It had been the end of a successful mission in France, and he had been eager to celebrate with his team. Perhaps he had made a mistake in bringing Charlie along. After one round too many, his old comrade had thrown up on an equally inebriated patron, who didn't appreciate the gift of reeking alcohol all over his front. And of course, Steve was too loyal (or too drunk) to let some goop kick his friend's ass - even if said goop was a beefy dockhand with fists as big as Steve's head. But if Steve couldn't stop him, he would see to it that at least Charlie wouldn't be getting his ass kicked alone. A noble sentiment that sounded a bit more like madness with each punch to the face. In the end, all Steve had gotten for his trouble was a night on some trash heap, and an unpleasant wake up call from his friend.

 _I swear, if that's Charlie relieving himself in my vicinity again, I'll kick him all the way back to Scotland._

The words already half-formed in his mouth, Steve opened his eyes. Then he blinked in utter confusion. He had half-expected to see the smoke-stacks and faded grey of London skies. Instead, he found himself staring up at the stone roof of a cave, rippling with the reflections of sunlight on water. It would have been beautiful if he had not been so bewildered by the unfamiliar sight.

He lay still for a few minutes, watching the glowing patterns shift and flutter across the smooth rock. _Where am I?_

He sat up, wincing slightly from the soreness of his battered body. The pain brought consciousness back in a wave.

 _Ah. Paradise island. Right._

Suddenly, hearing a soft sound behind him, Steve turned to see a young woman. Not the woman who had saved him - Diana, as he now knew she was called. This girl, he remembered, was the one who had restored the wounded General on the beach. In her slim hand was a silver pitcher, from which she had been pouring water into a marble basin. Judging by her frozen expression, she had been caught staring. Steve noted how she was careful to keep a good distance away from him, moving so that she was between him and the cave entrance. With a pang, he realized the emotion under her guarded expression was one of fear.

 _Better than the sight of poor ol' Charlie's rear end, anyhow._

He cleared his throat. "Uh...thank you. For, you know..." He gestured vaguely towards the water.

She ignored his words. "You are to get up, and wash yourself. When you are presentable, go outside. A detachment of soldiers will be waiting for you." Without looking at him, she shoved the pitcher into his hands and almost ran out of the cave.

"Thanks," Steve called after her.

 _No point in being rude first day on the job,_ he thought humorously. It was a weak attempt to quell his growing dread.

It was with great difficulty that he actually managed to get up from the woven mat he had been sleeping on. Apparently, crashing one's wrecked and smoking plane into the ocean tended to leave more than a few bruises.

Moving slowly to stand over the basin, Steve cupped his hands and dashed the cold water over his face and neck. To his shock, the water tingled against his skin, almost as if it were searing into his body. He could feel his muscles relax, the ache in his bones disappearing. The water must have come from the healing pools he was in last night. He tried to use the shiny metal of his compass to check his hair, wondering what the Amazonian standards for "presentable" were for a man like him.

Turning, he noted that a set of clean clothes had been laid out for him. Somehow, he couldn't quite picture himself wearing the long white tunic. He envisioned the paintings he had seen in an old cathedral back in London, depicting bare-legged angels floating about in nightgowns.

 _Yeah, I'm not ready for that._

Quickly, he pulled on his own clothes, eyeing his watch as he did so. He couldn't help but remember Diana's amused reaction from last night. He couldn't help but remember her smile. He hoped she would be present during - whatever it was he was expected to do. He had a feeling that if not for her, he'd be pounced on by angry Amazons in a heartbeat. They evidently did not trust him, not that he blamed them. Arriving in a German uniform hadn't helped his case at all. But for now, they didn't seem too eager to kill him. Not yet.

As he fastened on his watch, his thoughts went back to his father, long dead. To his friends. And to the world he had left behind.

The war was still going on out there. His duty was not done. But with no way off this strange place, he had no choice but to play along. When the time was right, he would escape this beautiful prison. With or without the Amazons' consent.

* * *

As a pilot, Steve had seen quite a few eye-openers in his time. Every now and then, he would still have dreams about the one night he had taken a friend's bird out for a ride, years before the war. The entire world had been spread out thousands of feet below him, city lights glittering like scattered embers. He'd thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Now, as he was marched hand-bound through the paradise that was Themyscira, he knew that nothing he'd ever experienced could compare to this.

The hot sun shimmered in waves over the white stones that made up the streets, houses, and walls of the city. Steve had never been one for art history, but he could see the architecture was incredibly ancient and intricate. Everywhere he looked there was life: silver birds wheeling overhead, goats and donkeys milling freely about, and exotic creatures he had never seen before. They passed through lush gardens shaded by palm trees, rustled by breezes that smelled faintly of saffron. Below, the sea sparkled with an almost impossible iridescence.

Steve was dazzled. Every single thing in this place appeared more colourful, more intense, more _alive._ By comparison, everything he'd ever seen seemed dull and grey, like objects in the background of those new-fangled photographs.

Yet even in his wonder, he couldn't help but notice how the pleasant sounds of the busy streets fell dead as he passed. Laughing crowds of women grew silent, eyeing him then turning to whisper amongst themselves. The weavers sitting in doorways stopped their work to stare. In one corner, a group of girls who had been playing musical instruments faltered, their song stammering to a halt. Steve could sense unseen eyes watching him from veiled windows.

He was in the Garden of Eden. But to its inhabitants, he was the snake.

* * *

At last, Steve found himself in the palace once more. His silent captors marched him straight into the throne room where he had been questioned yesterday after the battle. Looking about, he was infinitely relieved to see that none of the gathered warriors were holding the glowing rope he had been bound with. He wasn't afraid of the pain. What scared him was how the truth had inexplicably been drawn from his lips, compelling him to speak from within. He didn't like what he didn't understand.

He did, however, understand that this was a very serious tribunal, in which he would do well to keep his mouth shut. The Queen of the Amazons sat upon the throne, a gilded cloak over her armor and a naked sword laid across her knees. To her left sat the General, her side bound with linen underneath leather armor. And to her right stood Diana. When Steve caught her eye, she nodded almost imperceptibly. He hoped that meant he was not about to be executed.

The Queen spoke. "Steve Trevor, our council has reached a final verdict concerning your fate on this island. You have proven your courage in the battle against the invaders. Our honour decrees that we cannot kill one who fights by our side."

Steve let out a breath. "Well, that's a relief! So, I'll just be on my way then - "

One of the guards nudged him in the ribs with her staff, cutting him off. The Queen continued.

"However, you have also revealed yourself to be a spy for your people. You cannot be trusted with freedom. Therefore, until you earn our trust, you will remain our prisoner on Themyscira."

Steve's heart sank. "Please, I swear I mean no harm to you or your people."

"Then prove it," she challenged, her eyes glinting. "Show your worth as a warrior, and your character as a man. If in time we judge you to be sincere in your allegiance to us, you will be freed."

Her sister stepped forward. "As I told you last night, you are to train under my command. Fear no cruelty, for that is not the Amazon way. But know this..." She stood and moved very close to Steve, holding his gaze with an iron will. "If you display any sign of treachery, or attempt to harm any of our people," she said, careful and low, "you will be punished accordingly."

Steve nodded. "Understood. General."

Satisfied for now, she sat down again. The Queen stood, and, with a single swipe of her sword, severed the ropes that bound Steve's wrists.

"Steve Trevor," she declared, "from today you shall be one among the Amazons. Do not take this decision lightly."

"I don't," he said. "Thank you...your Highness." He saw Diana smile at him. He grinned back.

"So, when do I start?" he asked, upbeat.

"Now," said the General.

He blinked. "Oh, I didn't mean - "

"Menalippe!" she called to a dark-haired woman. "Show him to the armory. When he is equipped, meet us outside." She raised her voice. " _Amazons! To the training grounds!_ "

The warrior women sent up a deafening shout in reply. Steve saw a dangerous gleam in Diana's eyes as she eagerly followed her aunt out. Then he lost sight of her in the crowd of Amazons, clashing their swords and staffs against their shields.

"This way, Steve Trevor," he heard Menalippe ordering. "You do not wish to keep our General waiting, especially on your first day of training."

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, this chapter actually didn't go at all how I planned. I meant to go straight to Steve's first training session (which you've already read a bit of in the prologue). But I felt that there should be a more official declaration of the decision regarding Steve, instead of just having Antiope casually inform him of it in the cave. Amazon culture seemed a lot more open than that, so it made sense to me to have Hippolyta announce her decision in the presence of all her warriors.**_

 _ **What do you guys think? I promise, the next chapters will have plenty of action. In the meantime, thanks for all the follows/favourites/reviews - they give me so much joy! Shout out to Ragnarok666 for a very insightful review. I will definitely go deeper into the relationship between the Amazons and Steve. Thank you!**_


	4. A Disastrous Duel

In the past few years as a spy for British Intelligence, Steve had only ever seen a small handful of female soldiers in the army. Each time he spotted a feminine face amidst the sea of khaki, he felt rather startled. It couldn't be denied that certain dames packed as good a punch as any guy; Steve would never forget that time he'd witnessed a creep get his come-uppance from a girl he'd been hassling. She hadn't looked like much, a petite blonde sitting all alone at the bar. But one crass comment from the drunken sailor, and she'd let fly one of the best right-hooks Steve had ever seen.

No, girls weren't all flowers and lace, Steve knew. Nevertheless, they were anomalies in an army of men, and were always looked upon as such.

Now, Steve was starting to see what that felt like.

 _Yeah...not great._

As Menalippe hustled him through brazen doors into a huge armory, Steve realized just how out of place he was. The armory was its own separate building, positioned far from the sea-spray coming up from below the cliffs. Inside, it was a cavernous area: walls hung with armor and weapons underneath a soaring roof. There were shields, spears, bows, daggers, and swords of all designs. As Steve watched the fearsome weapons gleaming in the light of the lit braziers, he began to realize that these women were straight out of myth, an army of warriors with unspeakable strength.

And here he was, nothing more than a frail, mortal man. How could he ever live up to these legends?

 _Oh God,_ he thought, _I'm going to die, aren't I._

"Come, Steve Trevor," he heard Menalippe calling from across the echoing space.

"Steve - just Steve," he said, as he jogged over. He doubted she'd heard him, though; she was totally occupied in lifting a heavy looking-suit of armor. Reaching out, he tried to help her. She merely shrugged him off with a glare that said, _Keep your distance._ Steve backed off, palms facing forward.

"You will put this on," she said shortly, spreading the pieces of armor out on a nearby wooden table. "I believe it will fit you."

Steve looked askance at what he thought was an excessive amount of metal to put on a single human body. "Um, don't take this wrong - I'm grateful, really - but I don't think I can wear that. I just don't know if I'd have the strength to even move." _Not to mention I'd look absolutely ridiculous._

She sighed. "Perhaps you are right." To Steve's imagination, she looked disappointed that she wouldn't be able to watch him suffocating in the tropical heat under all that armor.

It took a good quarter of an hour to find armor that suited him. It was considerably humiliating, like trying on outfit after outfit in a department store. Menalippe seemed amused and exasperated by turns. Finally, however, they managed to agree on a simple leather tunic over his own clothing, its inside lined with surprisingly light chain mail. They found a pair of boots that fitted him - riding boots, but they would have to do for now, Menalippe said. Then she helped him fasten leather gauntlets about his wrists, snapping pieces of metal on top. A bronze helmet fit snugly over his head.

"Done," said Menalippe, relieved. "Let us make haste. We are already late as it is."

"What about my weapon?" he asked, looking eagerly at the selection of wickedly sharp blades.

"You will be given used ones at the training fields," she answered over her shoulder.

As she walked back towards the doors, Steve took a moment to examine his reflection in one of the polished shields. He looked like a soldier out of the Greek literature books he'd studied way back in school. He chuckled, picturing how his friends would react to his new get-up.

 _They'd never let me hear the end of it._

* * *

Diana tilted her face to the sky, relishing the warmth of the morning sun and the tang of salt from the sea. A smile on her face as she listened to the familiar ringing sound of metal on metal.

As she opened her eyes to see dozens of women moving on the field, she wondered how so much could change in so little time. Just yesterday morning, she had been blissfully ignorant of the world outside her own. Everything had seemed so simple back then: the days of training from dawn til dusk, the camaraderie she shared with her sisters, the simple pleasures of art, feasting, literature, music. Life as an Amazon had never been easy, but Diana would have it no other way.

Then the pilot had come crashing through the sky. Blood had been spilled on the shores of Themyscira. Even now, a shadow fell over her heart as she remembered the man's message of war. She may have been trained to fight, but this...this was different. This was _real_. Perhaps what hurt her the most was learning that men could be so heartless towards their own kind. And that her mother was not going to do anything about it.

With a pang of guilt, Diana stowed the rebellious thought away. Her mother _was_ doing something, by giving the man a chance to prove himself and his people. The fact that she had let him live was enough. _And yet..._

Diana shook her head. There was no time for such thoughts, not when there was still so much work to be done about the island. It had taken the greater part of the night to dispose of the dead invaders, burning their bodies on a pyre. "It is more respect than they deserve," one Amazon had muttered. The bodies of their own sisters had been mercifully few. Yet Diana could not forget her shock and sorrow when she saw the lifeless faces of those she had known since birth. They had cared for her, trained with her, looked out for her. Now they lay silent and still in the bosom of the earth, killed by flying shards of metal.

Just then, Diana caught sight of her aunt, moving albeit slowly along the rows of warriors, giving praise and criticism where they were due. Diana marvelled at Antiope's energy and strength, her determination to live as she had always done despite her injury. She recalled that terrible moment when she had held her aunt's body, limp and bleeding, on the beach. In a single flash, Diana had known how _wrong_ it felt to see Antiope still, unmoving. The light gone from her eyes.

Despite the warmth of the sun, Diana suddenly shivered. Involuntarily, she ran her hands along her forearms. Remembering what had happened yesterday during training, before she had seen the pilot fall into the sea. Remembering the power that had burst from within her. Remembering how strange and yet how _right_ it had felt...until she had seen Antiope lying on the ground several feet away.

Even in her joy at having Antiope alive and well, Diana felt a new hesitance towards her aunt. She felt shame for having hurt her, even if unintentionally. Antiope herself had not brought up the subject. Diana half wished she would. It had only been a day, and already she could sense the chink of silence widening between her and her beloved aunt.

She owed Antiope her entire life as an Amazon. If not for her, she would never have been allowed to become a warrior for her people. She smiled a little, thinking back to her first training session.

 _Tiptoeing silently through the mouth of the cave, bearing a candle in one hand and a short stick in the other. Eyes wide with anticipation._

 _"Antiope. I'm here."_

 _The most powerful warrior in Themyscira steps out of the shadows. "Good girl. Ready?"_

 _A vigorous nod. Yes. She was born ready._

* * *

Diana was shaken out of her reverie by the arrival of Menalippe. Following close behind her was the pilot, Steve Trevor.

As they entered the field, Diana could sense the looks and murmurs exchanged amongst the gathered Amazons.

"There, that is he. The one who brought the invaders."

"He is not worthy of wearing our armor."

"Be on guard, sisters. He may try to run for it. See the look in his eyes."

"I hope the General asks me to spar with him. We cannot kill him, but at least I can make him suffer what our injured do."

Diana heard these whispers with growing dread. She just hoped the man was skilled enough to defend himself decently.

She watched as Antiope handed Steve Trevor a long sparring stick. She beckoned him to stand in the centre of the ring. Then she called,

"Artemis! Are you willing to spar with our newest warrior?"

A few cheers ran through the crowd as the tall, muscular woman stepped forward. She was one of the strongest of them all. Those who sparred with her usually ended up in the healing pools for a day afterward.

Diana raised an eyebrow at her aunt, silently asking why she would start the man off at such a disadvantage. Antiope merely shrugged, casting a look about at the Amazons who had gathered to watch. Diana decided to wait and see what she had planned.

At a word from Antiope, the warrior and the pilot stood facing each other. Artemis held up her stick in readiness, the anticipation plain on her features. The man obviously had no idea what to do.

 _Raise your weapon,_ Diana thought. _Be ready to move your feet_ _._

The pilot did none of these things. Instead, he opted for receiving Artemis' first strike full on the side of his face.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the Amazons as he hit the ground, hard. Diana stared in disbelief. The man's reflexes were so slow, he might as well have been a statue.

Some of the other Amazons had gathered in a circle around the man as he lay in the dust. Diana heard someone saying loudly, "If he cannot take even one blow, he can never hope to learn our arts."

"Antiope." Diana caught her aunt's arm in one hand. "He is not ready for this. Please, let me spar with him instead."

But Antiope gave her the look that signalled authority. "Do not interfere, Diana," she commanded. Then louder, "Silence."

The circle of Amazons quieted and parted to let her stand above the pilot. "Get up, soldier."

To Diana's dismay, Antiope made him stand to fight against Artemis once more. His right cheek was turning an odd shade of purple.

This was wrong. Diana stepped forward to plead with her aunt again, but Menalippe stopped her. "No, Diana," she said softly, holding tightly to her arm. For fear of hurting her with the power within, Diana did not struggle.

She watched as Steve Trevor survived Artemis' first attack. He actually managed to disturb her balance, so that she fell on one knee. But even from here, Diana could see that the thrill of his small victory had distracted him. He was nowhere near prepared for the consequent jab to the stomach.

Artemis' weapon swung up and over her head.

 _CRACK!_ It was a perfect, beautiful blow. Some of the Amazons applauded their approval. A few were outright cheering.

As she watched Steve Trevor's body slump unconscious to the ground, Diana felt suddenly sick. If this went on, he would have no chance of surviving training. _They did not give him a chance at all._

After a moment went by, and the pilot remained unconscious, Antiope spoke. "I believe our guest is done for the day. Please, Charis and Thalia, take him back to the healing houses. Amazons, resume training!"

The clamour of activity returned, and Steve Trevor was borne back up to the city.

* * *

Diana received quite a few bruises of her own that day. Although her aunt and her friends alike reprimanded her - Watch out _, Diana! Beware the enemy!_ \- she remained distracted for the entire day.

She couldn't stop replaying the sight of his body hitting the ground.

And how alone he had seemed.

* * *

 _ **A/N: So sorry for taking so long to update...terrible, I know. Really hoping to establish a more regular schedule from here on out. Thanks for being so patient - y'all are the best! Please leave a review, even brief one-liners make my day :)**_

 _ **PS can anyone tell me what "cookies" are? And how do you give them? Just outta curiosity...**_


	5. First Week In Paradise

_**Now would probably be a good time to put in a disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN WONDER WOMAN OR ANYTHING CREATED BY DC. I have a couple of OCs here and there, but other than that I own squat. Otherwise I wouldn't be as broke as I am now ;) Hope y'all like this update!**_

* * *

"I have seen some truly dreadful wounds as a healer, Diana. Wounds so terrible that they make cuts such as this one seem like nothing in comparison," Althaia said. She tightened the bandage around Diana's arm as she spoke. "In most cases, scars are earned with honour, and they stand as the marks of a glorious and valiantly fought battle. But that man's injuries?" She laughed a little, shaking her head. "It sounds as though he accomplished nothing to deserve them."

The two women were alone in one of the white-walled houses of healing, the one reserved especially for Althaia's own practice. It was early evening, and outside the sky was blending from the crisp red of sunset to a rich, velvety purple. As per her usual custom, Diana was visiting her friend after training had finished. Before the Amazons gathered in the hall for the evening meal, they were usually obliged to seek healing for the various injuries they had acquired during the day.

In addition to a collection of smarting bruises, Diana had received a long cut along her upper arm. The sharp pain had finally snapped her out of the daze she had been in, ever since she had witnessed Steve Trevor's disastrous first duel that morning. The details of which, of course, Althaia had been most eager to hear. The tale had spread rapidly amongst the women, and was generally received with a combination of amusement and disdain. It was so strange to have a man present on the island, that everything he did was of utmost interest. But Diana knew Althaia. It was most likely that she only cared for a description of the pilot's injuries, so that she could occupy herself in coming up with an appropriate healing balm.

Diana had never quite understood her friend's enthusiasm for herbs. She seemed perfectly content to spend whole afternoons bent over some odd-smelling concoction, scribbling into a scroll and muttering to herself. As a child, Diana had been happy to provide plenty of distraction: trying to eat the herbs, drawing figures of fighting Amazons all over the scrolls, and constantly asking questions. Luckily for her, Althaia had always been patient, if a little more anxious than usual. As Diana grew and matured, she became less wont to disrupt her friend's work and more capable of conversation.

Despite the stark difference in the nature of their skills, the two Amazons had remained fast friends throughout the years. Unlike Diana, Althaia had little interest in battle. She did not care about stratagems, weapons, or who had bested whom in the latest spar. However, she was extremely interested in the wounds that Diana would often come to her with as a result of her training. Diana liked to teasingly accuse her of being happier the bigger the injury, because it meant she had more reason to try out her new healing balms. For her part, Diana did not mind playing test-subject to her friend's creations - thankfully their positive healing effects always outweighed the more unfortunate reactions they caused.

Well, almost always.

"Nothing indeed," Diana replied, frowning. "I certainly agree with you, though not in the same way. I still do not understand why Antiope made him spar on the first day. And with Artemis, too! Even I have difficulty sparring with Artemis!"

Althaia raised an eyebrow. "You did not seem to be having much difficulty the other day," she said, meaning Diana's last spar with Artemis. On the day the invaders had come.

Diana smiled ruefully and rubbed her cheek, remembering the blow she'd taken before she had switched tactics and finally bested her fellow Amazon. "Don't you think you are just a little biased, my friend?" she asked, good-naturedly.

The healer laughed. "Not at all. And I do not discredit Artemis, either. She is a very powerful warrior, perhaps second only to the General herself. That fact only makes your own victory greater...and the man's failure more forgivable."

"Forgivable! Oh, Althaia, I pity him. He was completely helpless, defenseless. And I could do nothing to help. My aunt would not allow it."

Althaia shushed her. "Not so loud! At least the General must not hear of your disagreement. You told me yourself, she said not to interfere." But Diana ignored her.

She got up and strode restlessly about the room, only dimly aware of poor Althaia chasing her and attempting to fix the now-loosened bandage on her arm. Somehow, she could not shake off the feeling that it had been cruel to grant the man his life, only to punish him for something that was not his fault. Deep down, she also knew that part of her anger was directed toward herself, for questioning her mother and aunt's decisions, even in her thoughts.

"He may have been able to hold his own against the invaders," she went on, "but then, they had very little skill themselves. Their only advantage lay in their weapons. How could Antiope ever expect him to be able to survive against an Amazon?"

"I did not."

Both Diana and Althaia froze at the sound of another voice. Turning, Diana saw Antiope standing alone in the doorway of the house. Her eyes were hard.

After a moment of silence, she spoke. "I knew perfectly well that the man stood no chance. I knew it from the moment I saw him on the beach."

"Then why - why - "

"Because I need to keep the support of my warriors, Diana. You've seen the anger in their eyes. The need to avenge their fallen sisters. Now, you and I both know that their hatred is misplaced, and that this man is innocent of shedding Amazon blood. But their sense of justice demands they see him punished before they can forgive him. If they ever do."

Diana shook her head. "I still don't understand how you could - "

"I did not think you would."

"I'm sorry," Diana whispered. But her aunt was already gone.

* * *

As Steve lay down on his mat that night with a splitting headache, he tried to be optimistic. So, he'd been humiliated in the most public way possible. Not a big deal. He thought about that bar fight he'd gotten into with Charlie, as long ago as it seemed. He'd been beaten before. He'd learn from today's mistakes, and he'd do better tomorrow.

To cut short what would be a long and painful chronicle of bruises, cuts, and even a couple of potentially broken bones - he didn't. Not on the second day, nor the third, nor the fourth. By the end of the week, he was aching in places he hadn't even known _existed_.

He was both amazed and indignant at the Amazons' apparently limitless tolerance for pain. His attacks against his opponent were rarely successful. Entire duels could go by without him even coming close to landing a blow. Whenever he miraculously did so, once in a blue moon, the Amazons would barely even flinch. They would simply shrug it off, then renew the fight with an even greater intensity.

It hardly seemed fair to him that his opponents should possess this advantage in addition to years of training and impossibly fast reflexes. Not only did it prevent him from winning a fight, but it also meant his own beatings lasted long after he'd already lost. The Amazons didn't seem to understand that he didn't have the same endurance as they did. They'd just keep on hitting him even when he went down. Maybe they thought he was merely faking defeat, not believing that he actually could have lost so soon. Maybe they were trying to increase his capacity for pain by pushing him past his limits. Maybe it was their way of saying _Great job, Steve! Same time tomorrow?_

Or maybe they just hated his guts.

To their credit, they really did try to teach him every fighting skill they possessed - well, when they weren't using him as a human punching bag. That is to say, he'd spend a single afternoon with one group of Amazons, and in their eventual frustration they'd pass him off to another division the next day.

At first, the General had left him with the archers. _This I can do_ , he thought to himself. He'd been one of the best marksmen in his training camp, back at the beginning of the war. His aim with a pistol or rifle was nothing short of excellent. Unfortunately, shooting with a bow and arrow turned out to be a completely different story. When he accidentally set a nearby rack of weaponry on fire with a couple of burning arrows, he was promptly kicked out of their corner and told not to bother returning. They wouldn't even let him help put out the flames.

Next up was a lesson on horseback riding. Again, something he thought he had grown quite used to in his travels. But Amazon riding turned out to be, well...what Steve could only describe the same way he remembered a ringmaster describing his finale in a circus Steve had seen as a little boy. _A death-defying act_. The Amazon he was introduced to explained that she had trained countless warriors in what she called "creative dismounting", and that it was nothing to be afraid of. This was after he had watched her demonstrate a backflip off of a moving horse while twisting to avoid the javelins thrown directly at her. Needless to say, Steve's own "creative dismount" lacked the grace and power of hers. He counted himself lucky that he had not broken any bones when he practically fell underneath the horse's hooves.

The only thing he proved to be skilled in was dagger throwing. As he spun knife after knife through the air, he tried to envision himself back at a pub, playing darts with his friends. He could almost hear Sameer's whistle of approval whenever he hit the target dead center.

Of course, he preferred to ignore the fact that he was more than ten paces closer to his target compared to the Amazons he was practicing with. Their barely concealed laughter made it difficult, though.

* * *

Meanwhile, he still slept in the dungeon. Well, it couldn't exactly be called a dungeon. More like an entire house all to himself, more luxurious than anywhere Steve had ever lived before. He was delivered much more food than he could possibly eat in one sitting, and clean linen every evening. It was almost enough to make up for the rough time he had during the day. Still, he couldn't help noticing the lack of windows. And the guards posted outside his door all night long.

It was a beautiful, comfortable prison. A gilded cage - but a cage nonetheless.

Steve rarely ever saw Diana, the woman who had saved his life (more than once, he suspected, seeing as he hadn't been executed by her people). Since that one brief and slightly awkward conversation in the cave of healing pools, he had never had the opportunity to speak to her. The only times he ever saw her were during those days when she happened to be training in a field near his. As he watched her take down six or seven opponents at once, he found himself growing more and more awestruck by her power and strength. Judging by her youthful expression and the way the others acted towards her, he guessed that she was among the youngest on this island. She was also the daughter of the Queen. Perhaps that was why he was never allowed near her. Despite her abilities, it was obvious that they were all protective of her.

Once, while his current instructor was grudgingly allowing him a brief rest, he witnessed her duelling with the General herself. Both women fought with a ferocity that terrified him. And yet, though he could see nothing wrong with Diana's fighting, the General never stopped rebuking her in between blows.

"Stronger, Diana!" she'd shout. "You are better than this - stop doubting yourself!"

To which Diana would respond with a flurry of sword strikes that would have killed a mere human. But Antiope was still not satisfied.

Later on, after the duel, Steve thought he saw Diana wiping her cheeks briefly with the heel of one hand. Her arms were trembling with the exertion of fighting. Yet her expression remained determined.

He wished he were allowed to speak with her, even just to exchange a few words. He still hadn't thanked her for saving his life...for the second time. Besides, she was the only person on this island that ever looked at him with kindness.

For the rest of her Amazon sisters' attitude had not changed much since his first day. Some were clearly afraid of him, such as the quiet girls who delivered his food every morning and evening. Others were merely amused by his all-too obvious inexperience. Most of them still harboured a lingering suspicion in their eyes.

The worst episode occurred one day, when three or four Amazons became outright hostile. He found himself cornered against a rack of weapons, completely surrounded. They taunted him, trying to challenge him into a duel they knew he'd lose.

"Come, Steve Trevor," said one. She said his name like an insult. "Let us determine who is the superior warrior, right here and now."

He tried to remain outwardly calm. "Oh, I don't think that's necessary," he said, lightly.

"A coward, as well as a spy," she hissed, slowly drawing her sword out of its scabbard.

Just as Steve had begun to mentally compose his last will, the General appeared. With a single look, she dismissed the warriors. When they had bowed and gone, she gave Steve a once-over. All she said was:

"Your defensive stance needs work."

For the most part, however, he was ignored. Unless they were ordered by the General to train him, it seemed that the Amazons had no wish to engage him in conversation. Any curiosity they might have had was overruled by their distrust. Whenever Steve tried to at least be friendly, they would either give him the briefest of answers or ignore him completely. Steve hardly considered himself a social butterfly, but hadn't John Something said that no man was an island? He laughed at the irony: here he was, the only man on an island with no hope of rescue.

More than ever, he found himself clinging to his father's old watch. It was the one reminder he still had of a life in a place where he had belonged. He'd look at the time and imagine what he'd be doing on a normal day. Making coffee, reading the newspaper, heading off for work. Laughing with his friends over a round of drinks. Coming home to feed his dog.

He found that he was having difficulty remembering a time before war.

* * *

And so it went on, until one night, lying bruised and aching and hopeless in his room, Steve knew he couldn't do this for any longer. He was beginning to suspect that the Amazons knew perfectly well he'd never be able to learn their ways. He'd be trapped on Themyscira forever - at any rate, long enough that the war would be over before he got out.

He clenched his fist, fingers closing around the watch. He thought of his friends, and all the folks still out there, fighting. He couldn't just sit here and do nothing but get beat up day in and day out.

His mind was made up.

"Hold on fellas," he whispered into the darkness. "I'm on my way."

By the end of the week, Steve Trevor swore he'd escape this island for good.

The only question was, _How?_


	6. Just My Luck

"Strike, parry! Strike, parry!"

Cold steel flashed against the sky, like a flock of silver birds taking flight. Up and down the ranks of women, Antiope's shouted orders rang out their sharp staccato. It was like a dance, Diana thought. The dance of a hundred women strong, their blades moving in perfect unison to the beat of the blood roaring in their ears. It was a glorious feeling.

Diana had always loved this training exercise. It was one of the times when she most felt at one with her Amazon sisters. As a young girl, she'd taken pride in lasting as long as any of them, despite her tender years. It was a test of endurance, the ability to maintain a perfect fighting stance even after hours of battle. Right now, Diana guessed that they had been going for about two hours, maybe three. It was about this time that she would notice her fellow warriors beginning to sweat and show effort, their breath growing louder.

She noticed, not for the first time, that she still felt as energetic as when she'd started.

Interestingly enough, when she glanced over at the man, two rows in front of her, he seemed to be doing well. That is, he wasn't flat on his back, as he so often seemed to end up no matter what he was doing. Diana chose to take it as a good sign.

"And, halt!" came the call. With a collective sigh of relief, the Amazons stopped and lowered their weapons.

"Well done," Antiope said, moving quickly along the lines. "Nupione, be sure to guard your left side from attack. Lyta, more strength in your downward stroke. Trevor, more grace and less...savagery in your motion. We will work on this. Amazons, dismissed for the morning."

The women began to break off into groups, either heading for water or to re-sharpen their swords. Diana watched as the man collapsed onto a bench, drinking deeply and gasping with exhaustion. Just as she moved to offer some advice on his technique (or lack thereof), she found herself face to face with her aunt.

"As for you, Diana," Antiope said, in a low voice, "more focus. Less distraction." She nodded in the pilot's direction. Then she walked away. Diana noticed that the only indication of her aunt's injury on the beach was a slight hitch in her step, and the white bandage underneath her armor.

Diana sighed. She glanced once more at the man. Then turning slowly, she joined a group of women who had gathered around a nearby basin.

"Hello, Diana," one greeted her. "Beautiful fighting out there - but not as good as mine. Let us spar later this afternoon, you and I!"

"Oh, I don't know, Mala," Diana pretended to muse. Nonchalantly, she leaned over and splashed her face with cold water. "Do you really think you're up to the challenge?"

Good-natured laughter welled up from the surrounding women. Mala grinned.

"Last time we sparred, I believe it was _you_ who ended up begging _me_ for mercy."

Diana raised an eyebrow mischievously. "The only time I'd ever beg mercy of you, Mala, is when it is your turn to sing at a feast."

Even Mala had to laugh at that. Diana felt a sudden warm glow of gladness. Things were just the way they should be between she and her sisters. Nothing would ever change that.

But then Mala made as if to punch her lightly in the arm...and paused, hesitating. Mala, who never hesitated.

Diana realized that all eyes were on her gauntlets. She knew that everyone was thinking of the strange power surge that had come from her during training. Just last week - had it been so long ago?

Suddenly ashamed, Diana pulled a linen towel over her shoulders and hid her arms in the folds. She changed the subject to one she knew they would be drawn to.

"So...how do you all feel about this man, this Steve Trevor? About his training?"

"He is improving," said one. Sarcasm. "Today, he actually managed to swing a sword without cutting himself."

"Give him time," murmured another. "The poor imbecile has probably never held a blade before in his life."

Mala laughed, harshly. "The man is weak. I charged him to fight with me a few days ago. The coward refused. I would have fought him anyway, but the General would not allow it."

An older Amazon who had just joined the group glowered darkly. "There's a good many things the General would not allow, if she only knew of them." She nodded towards where the man sat, still catching his breath. "But we are all in agreement: while she is still healing, we must not trouble her with such matters."

"What matters?" they pressed eagerly.

She lowered her voice, prompting them all, including Diana, to lean in closer together.

"Some of the Amazons in my cohort tell me that this man has begun to ask questions," she whispered. "Where we store all our provisions, to whom the armory is open to, whose duty it is to stand guard at night. I myself heard him asking whether he would be permitted to view our maps in the library. It is very strange."

Another woman chimed in: "I heard from one of his guards that he was conversing with the girl who brought him food this morning. He asked her for the last time anyone had ever left Themyscira. The foolish girl would have gone on talking to him, had my friend not escorted her out of danger."

They muttered amongst themselves, casting uneasy glances back at the man, until the noon meal. Diana was careful to keep her distance from him...and from her own sisters, who would now eye her with a wariness that bordered on fear.

* * *

Back in his room that night, Steve threw his helmet against the wall in frustration. It was no use. All day, he'd tried every trick, every technique that he'd ever learned for getting information without raising suspicion. He'd sweet-talked the girl with his breakfast, but a vigilant guard had ushered her away. He'd tried starting up casual conversations with the women in his cohort. But no one would answer his disguised questions. His guards never let him out of sight, so he had no chance of discovering things on his own. Worst of all, he sensed that he had probably aroused suspicion against himself already, judging by the looks he had gotten during training.

 _A job well done, Trevor. Just spectacular._

He'd never had any trouble getting intel out of women before. Steve wasn't a guy to take advantage of a lady, no matter which side she was on. Unlike some of his fellow spies, who'd brag about the information they'd stolen from dames desperate for romance. Secrets betrayed in the warm darkness of night, whispered on wine-tainted breath. Whenever he heard such tales, Steve would shudder in revulsion. There was no doubt that espionage was dirty work; but despite the merciless teasing from his comrades, Steve never took his work that far.

Still, he had no problem with turning on the charm if need be. Sameer used to joke that for someone who wasn't at all a flirt, Steve sure was popular with the ladies ( _"That one was mine, Steve! You gotta give a pal a chance, at least!"_ ). Steve didn't know about that, but it sure had proved useful at countless bars, socials, and galas. It took a bit of flattery here and there, maybe a couple dances. But as a rule, Steve always managed to get the intel he needed.

Apparently, the same rules didn't apply on an island full of warrior women.

 _Wonder if the ol' charm's wearing off after all these years_ , he thought, with a rueful smile. _Just my luck._

Quite suddenly, he became aware of the sounds of commotion outside. A clamour of voices, coming from the beaches below. Steve frowned. Despite the shortness of his stay, he had already become accustomed to the peace and quiet of Themyscira. Whatever was going on, it wasn't normal.

He heard shouting, and running footsteps. _Okay. Definitely not normal._ He rapped on the door.

"Hey," he called to the guards. "What's going on?"

No reply.

He knocked louder. "Everything all right out there?" Still, silence.

Alarmed now, he turned and dragged the table in the corner across the room, positioning it underneath the little slit in the wall. Standing on the table, he was able to catch a peek of the outside world. The first thing he saw was starlight, flickering strangely near to the earth. Then he saw the torchlight approaching his dwelling.

The door to his chamber swung open. Two women in armor stepped into the room.

"Hello ladies," he said, trying to look as though it was perfectly normal to be caught standing on a table in the middle of the night. "Can I help you?"

One of them cocked her head. "Actually, yes. At least, the Queen hopes so."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "The Queen?"

They gave him two minutes to change into suitable clothing, explaining it was cool by the water at this time of night. Steve noted their nervous air. He shrugged on his own woolen coat, and followed them out into the street.

"What's going on?" he asked, as they walked quickly down steps carved into the cliffs leading to the beach. "Where did my guards go?"

"They went down to the beach to investigate."

As they stepped onto sand, Steve noticed a large crowd of Amazons gathered at the water's edge. Among them was the Queen, mounted on a white horse.

"Investigate what, exactly?" he asked.

His escort shrugged. "It appears that one of the invaders' strange beasts of metal has washed up on the shore. The Queen thinks you might have an idea what it is, seeing as it is from your world."

Cautiously, Steve worked his way through the crowd. They were exclaiming and pointing, some nervously and some excitedly. But when they noticed his presence, all fell silent and parted to let him pass. The Queen nodded at him, motioning for him to look.

Now extremely curious, Steve moved right up to the shore, where a hulking form lay halfway in the water. At first he didn't recognize the shape, didn't understand what he was seeing.

Then he started, staring in disbelief.

It was his airplane.

* * *

 **A/N: And the plot thickens! Apologies all round for the late update - life's been a little crazy. So excited for y'all to see what I got planned, really hope you like it. I'm sorta tired of Steve and Diana not interacting, so hoping to throw in a lil' fluff in the next chapter or so :)**


	7. The Shadow of Doubt

Steve stepped knee-deep into the shallows and approached the heap of twisted metal. In the flickering light from the Amazons' torches, it looked almost grotesque. A mangled beast that had no place in this paradise. Steve felt an irrational fear that it might come roaring back to life if he touched it, jaws of steel clamping onto his limbs.

He shook himself. _Get a hold of yourself, Trevor._

Carefully, he circled around the wreckage. It was a ruined mess. But it was, without the shadow of a doubt, the very airplane in which he had crash-landed into Themyscira. It must have been dragged up from the depths by the tide, and washed up onto the shore.

 _Impossible._

The word echoed in Steve's mind, bouncing about so loudly against his skull that he missed the Queen's question. He only realized she had spoken when he noticed the expectant looks on the faces of the women on the shore.

"Sorry, your Highness?" he heard himself saying. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.

"You know what this is?" she asked, gesturing at the airplane.

At that moment, Steve's mind went quiet, his heartbeat slowing to a crawl. It was the strange cunning that always came over him in crucial moments. It was the reason he was always able to keep his cool under stress, the reason that he never failed to think his way out of a tight spot. It was what made him a spy - one of the best.

Now, he followed his instinct and accepted it without knowing quite why. All he was aware of was the niggling presence of possibility at the back of his brain. With practiced smoothness, Steve arranged his features into an expression of blank bewilderment.

"No, your Highness."

Her eyes narrowed. "But it is from your world, is it not."

He didn't blink. "Yes," he replied, "but it is not of my people. It belonged to the Germans - the invaders." _True enough._

Taking a torch from a nearby Amazon, he splashed his way over to where the German ensign was stamped on the plane's side. He held the light to the symbol. Some of the Amazons nodded and murmured, no doubt recognizing it as the same one embroidered on the Germans' uniforms.

One Amazon spoke up. "If it is of the invaders, it can only mean harm towards us. I say we throw it back into the sea from whence it came. Let nature do its work."

"Who is to say it is the only thing now polluting the waters of our island?" asked another. "There might be a dozen such monstrosities. Are we simply going to keep throwing them out every time they appear?"

"She's right," said a third - Mala, Steve remembered. "Perhaps we should collect and use the metal, turn it into something good."

While they spoke, Steve kept silent. As always, he found himself impressed by the respect each woman was given, no matter how unpopular her opinion. They conferred quickly, coming fast on the heels of one another's speech. Yet everyone who had something to say was listened to; only then would the Queen make her decision. It was a far cry from the endless shouting matches Steve had grown used to witnessing back at headquarters. He was all the more startled, therefore, when he heard a shout come crashing into the midst of their quiet conference.

"Stop! Listen to me, all of you!"

Everyone turned in surprise. Steve's eyes widened slightly when he saw who had spoken out of turn.

"Diana." There was a warning in the Queen's voice. "Go back to the palace."

But the younger woman ignored her. Almost frantically, she began to splash her way towards the plane. Everyone, Steve included, just watched in a sort of frozen silence. Diana stared for a moment at the wreckage, eyes scanning its features.

And then Steve realized that every wild hope that had sprung up in his brain could be nipped in the bud, by the one person on this island who had actually seen him falling from the sky. The one person who knew that this wreck was once a flying machine which, if restored, could be used for escape.

Steve cursed internally, though not a flicker passed over his face. _Dammit._ Diana wasn't stupid. She'd probably already recognized the plane for what it was, and remembered what it could do. In the midst of his terror, Steve wanted to laugh at the irony. If she hadn't seen him crash, he'd be dead. But now, she was a witness.

When she turned back, she made eye contact with him for the briefest of moments.

"Mother," she said, tensely, "we must destroy it. Now."

"What?" said Steve, and "What?" said the surrounding onlookers. Apparently, the Amazons' curiosity had overpowered their fears. Clearly, they were in favour of finding out more about the plane. The Queen raised her hand to quiet the murmured protests.

"Silence, all!" she commanded. Then, to her daughter: "Please, Diana. You are not being reasonable."

"I should say not," an older Amazon put in. By the way the Amazons listened to her, Steve guessed she was a respected elder. "Mala is on the right path. We must make use of this discovery. For all we know, it is a gift, an opportunity sent by the gods. If what the man says is true, this may be our only chance of learning something of our enemies - and any weaknesses in their weapons, which we can use to defeat them should they return. If I may, my Queen, I suggest that we put Steve Trevor to work in restoring this _thing_ to how it was when the invaders used it against us."

"It is not as though he is doing anything else of use," Steve heard one girl scoff under her breath.

The Queen considered. "You may be right, Daria," she said, with an incline of her head to the older woman. "Steve Trevor. Can you or can you not restore this thing, to such a condition that would allow us to study it?"

But Steve was not allowed to answer.

"Mother, no!" interrupted Diana, for the second time. "I have seen it before, we must destroy it - "

"Diana." Low, warning.

But Diana went on. "Please, mother, just listen - "

"Enough, Diana!" The Queen's voice was terrible. It cut through Diana's outburst like a dagger. "You speak out of turn, of things you do not yet understand." Her next words were quiet and cold. "Leave us, immediately."

A sort of startled silence fell over the beach. Despite the scarlet light of the torches, Steve could see Diana's face was flushed with humiliation and frustration. Biting her lip, she left without another word.

"Well, Steve Trevor?" demanded the Queen.

Steve nodded quickly, barely managing not to quail under the sheer anger in her gaze, even though he knew it was not intended for him.

"Yes, your Highness," he said. "It will take time - but I know it can be done." The truth was, he highly doubted the wreck would ever fly again, considering the damage it had sustained. But Steve was not the type to give up hope, however meager the chances. Besides - even if it was no use, he could at least pretend to work on the plane and escape having do any more training. _I could use a break from getting kicked in the ass._

"Good." The Queen looked weary. "From today, you will spare no effort to restore this thing. You may work on it when you have finished your training for the day."

 _So much for that._ Now he would have to endure late nights in addition to the exhaustion of training. The disappointment was crushing. But Steve didn't even blink. "Yes, your Highness."

One Amazon spoke up tentatively, clearly not eager to receive a dressing down as Diana had. "Your Highness? The metal beast is too heavy to be carried up the cliffs."

The Queen looked too weary to do more than sigh. "Very well. Carry it to the cove, to protect it from the wind and tide." With a wave of dismissal, she turned her horse back towards the city. Her royal guard departed also. Steve was left, ankle-deep in the water, staring at the plane.

He turned with an apologetic smile to the remaining Amazons. "Uh...would some of you mind giving me a hand with this?" he asked, gesturing towards the wreck. To his surprise, about half a dozen rushed forward quite eagerly, all wanting to lay hands on the "metal beast". Once again, Steve was astonished at their inhuman strength as they half-lifted, half-dragged the plane into a nearby cove. It was sheltered by a small grove of trees, their trunks bleached bone-white by the ocean spray.

"Thank you," he said, when the plane had been secured by piling rocks and shingle about its hull. When he received no response, he looked up and saw that the look of excitement on the Amazons' faces had faded into disappointment.

"What a fool I was, to think this ruin could ever be restored," said one, disgruntled. "Seeing it up close, only a simpleton would not despair of fixing it."

"I wish you luck, Steve Trevor," another laughed. "It seems you will have great need of it."

Then they were gone, and Steve was alone with the wreck. It grinned at him, like a hollow skull distorted beyond recognition. Perhaps it was the utter desolation of the scene. But quite suddenly, Steve felt flat as a pricked carnival balloon. The Amazons were right. All his fantasies of escaping in this sad heap of _shit_ were ridiculous. Planes were delicate things, hard to repair even in the most favourable of conditions. But not even the most skilled mechanic could bring this wreck back to life. In an abrupt burst of anger, Steve seized a chunk of rock and hurled into the ocean with all his might. It merely sank beneath the turmoil of the waves.

"Useless," he muttered. Then he slumped to the ground, his back against the cliff.

For the first time in his life, Steve felt defeated.

* * *

High up in the palace, alone in her room, Diana was feverishly pacing across the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. Only one thought was running through her mind.

 _Why won't she just listen to me?_

She just couldn't understand it. All her life, she had been used to telling her mother everything. She remembered one time from when she was but a child. A naughty mood had come over her, and she had given her current guardian the slip. She'd then spent an entire afternoon hidden away in a corner of one of the great kitchens, stuffing her mouth with baked treats. But as time wore on, and her upset stomach erased any fun she had been having, her conscience began to prod at her. It wasn't long before she felt as though her tiny ribcage was being crushed with guilt. She had crept to her mother and confessed everything. She had been terrified of the consequences - but even scarier was the idea of keeping something from her mother, who trusted her so. And her mother listened, and forgave her.

And now, when it really counted, the Queen would barely even look at her. There was something she wasn't telling her. It almost made Diana wonder what secrets her mother was hiding from her - had been hiding her entire life.

She stared out her window towards the beach. She could see tiny dark shapes dragging the flying device away from the waves. For that was what it was. Diana had recognized it by its widespread arms like birds wings, and the odd wheel that spun in the front, cutting the air with a dozen blades. She had seen such a thing only once before - when it had crashed through the sky and into the water. When she had saved the pilot's life.

Now he meant to escape in it, she was sure. And her mother had all but granted him permission. If she only knew what the metallic beast was meant for, she would order it to be destroyed at once. But Diana knew, in her heart, that it wasn't really the destruction of the flying device she wanted. She wanted the trust of her mother - her _family_ \- back.

Since the day the invaders had come, Diana had sensed an invisible wall that had risen between her and her mother, her aunt, her friends. It was almost as if they were... _afraid_ of her? But how could that be? A tiny voice whispered in her ear, reminding her of the strange burst of power from her gauntlets. _But that wasn't my doing!_ she wanted to scream. Burying her face in her hands, she curled up in a corner of the beautiful, cold room.

For the first time in her life, Diana felt alone.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_ _I'm so very sorry for an update that is so late it has passed beyond the realm of late-ness and has entered a whole new dimension of late. It's been an awful few months, in which I've barely written a sentence outside of homework. I feel terrible for doing this (completely unintentionally!) to anyone and everyone who was reading this fic - thanks y'all for your patience! I swear, the updates will come much, MUCH more frequently from here on out, due to a more relaxed schedule and loads of personal motivation leftover from New Years!_**


	8. By the Light of the Moon

The life of an Amazon was no bed of roses. The paradise island of Themyscira - still breathtaking even to those who had lived on it for thousands of years - certainly made it tempting to live a life of idleness, filled with aimless enjoyment of the gods' gifts. But the Amazons - the daughters of the women who had fought their way out of captivity in the darkest of ages - were not the sort of women to lie about.

Far from becoming soft and weak amidst luxury, the Amazons had pushed themselves body, mind, and spirit until they were a race that did credit to their ancestors. Some pursued the arts, others provided the daily needs of food and clothing. And the warriors trained for hours beneath the hot sun. But no matter the task, every woman threw her whole being into her work - which brought about the belief that every bow, every garment held a tiny bit of an Amazon's essence.

The beauty of their work demanded a high price: the sweat of their brows and the ache of their backs. They took pride in their tribute, and never complained. But Hippolyta knew a life of happy work could easily turn to a burden of toil if not interrupted with frequent respite.

And so, once a month, when the moon waxed to its full, a well-earned celebration was thrown in honour of every Amazon of Themyscira. The Festival of Selene was a revelry of song, dance, and feasting that lasted long into the night. While not an official, major event within Ancient Tradition, Hippolyta knew it was always held to be a momentous event in the eyes of the Amazons. She was determined that tonight would be no exception.

Fires would be lit, songs would rise into the night sky, wine would be poured out by the flagon.

 _Let the fun begin._

* * *

Hippolyta rose from her seat at the high table, her dress glinting in the light of the blazing lamps and braziers that lined the walls of the Great Hall. On a daily basis, she wore her armour, so accustomed to its weight that she barely felt it. But on occasions such as this, she preferred one of her sweeping dresses, sewn with fine golden thread. Smiling, she raised her hand for silence. One and all, the women gathered before her gave attention.

For a moment, Hippolyta simply gazed upon their bright, merry faces. This was one of the few times she ever saw her people so relaxed, so carefree, and she relished it. In the warm light that filled the air, wearing their simple but beautiful raiment, they looked almost like young, innocent girls.

"Amazons of Themyscira," Hippolyta began, "you all know my gratitude for your never-ending efforts. Every woman here has proven her right to stand, one day, in the company of our mothers. May their legacy never end!"

The cheers echoed through the hall. Again, Hippolyta raised her hand, and silence fell once more.

"But, as we all know, there are some of our sisters who are not present with us today. Less than a fortnight ago, they gave their lives in defense of Themyscira. We are forever grateful for their sacrifice. Great is their reward - even now, they reign victorious!" She raised her goblet of dark red wine. "Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" came the cry. And they drank in honour of their fallen sisters.

Once more, the hum of conversation and laughter mingled with the soft music. Hippolyta reclined back onto her chair. Beside her, Antiope held out her goblet.

"To my sister and Queen," she said. Laughingly, they touched their drinks together. But something was not quite right. In an instant Hippolyta realized what it was.

"Where is Diana?" she asked. "I have not seen her all night."

"That is odd." Her sister frowned. "Diana never misses the chance to celebrate."

Hippolyta smiled fondly at memories of Diana as a little girl, always the first to sing and dance at any festival. But the pleasant sensation faded, replaced by the shadow that had been hanging over her for the past few days.

Ever since her duel with Antiope just before the arrival of the invaders, Hippolyta had tried to avoid talking with her daughter. It hurt, of course. But Diana had begun to ask dangerous questions, about the world of man. About war. Soon enough, she would begin to question her power - and what she really was. Hippolyta laughed in spite of herself. _The terrors of the Underworld are nothing compared to those of motherhood._

At that moment, she caught sight of a healer with whom Diana was close friends. "Althaia," Hippolyta called.

"Yes, my Queen?" said the slender, dark-haired woman, coming near.

"Have you seen Diana?" Antiope asked, in a low voice.

The healer's hands twisted together. "Yes - and no, General," she finally said. "I came to her private chambers earlier this afternoon, to help her prepare for the festival. It is a custom of ours, you see."

"And? Why isn't she here?"

"She wouldn't let me into her room," Althaia said, perplexedly. "I tried opening her door, but it was locked from the inside. She said she wanted to be left alone for a while."

Antiope raised her eyebrows. "And she hasn't left her chambers since?"

Althaia shook her head. "No - I checked one last time before I came here. Her door was still locked, and her lamp within was still lit. I did not want to disturb her." She spoke earnestly. "I hope I did nothing wrong, your Highness?"

Hippolyta managed a smile, despite the worry in her heart. "No, no, Althaia. Do not let this trouble you. Please, go and enjoy yourself."

The healer gave a small, uncertain smile and nodded. Then she disappeared into the crowd.

Hippolyta sighed. No doubt Diana was still smarting from her rebuke last night at the beach. Antiope touched her shoulder.

"Shall I go speak to her, sister?" she asked.

After a moment, Hippolyta shook her head. "No. Perhaps - perhaps she does need time to herself. It has been quite a fortnight."

Antiope nodded in understanding. As she moved off into the crowd, Hippolyta was glad to see she no longer held a hand to her wounded side. One could hardly believe she had been near death but a few days ago.

 _I will take it as a good sign,_ Hippolyta thought. If Antiope could heal, so could Diana.

Yes. Perhaps it was for the best that she was left alone - for now.

* * *

 _Meanwhile..._

Steve glanced up at the palace, its windows illuminated from within by the tawny glow of a great fire. Even from here - at the bottom of the cliffs, hundreds of feet below the city, and surrounded by the whisper of the ocean - he could hear the pleasant sounds of laughter and faint music. He had a vague realization that it was because the rest of the island was so still. Here and there, some strange bird would pierce the night air with its wild cry. The trees within the grove rustled their pale branches. The water lapped on the sand. But on the whole, silence prevailed. No honking horns, no clanging bells, no shrieking train whistles. _Huh,_ Steve thought. It was so peaceful, he felt it was almost uncanny.

But mostly he just wished he could get out of the cold. For all that Themyscira was an exotic island, it also grew cool by the waterfront at night. Even in his woolly pilot's jacket, Steve shivered.

He took one last wistful look at the bright, warm halls above. Apparently, the Amazons had a sort of end of the month celebration. He wasn't surprised at not being invited; really, he found himself chuckling at the idea of what in the world he was supposed to wear to such an occasion. He remembered the struggle he and Sameer had had once trying to get Charlie into a suit and tie. The brass needed him to get intel from the officers at some fancy dinner party, and of course he'd called on his friends for backup. Unfortunately, his Scottish friend wasn't having it.

"Hands off, laddies!" he'd shouted, flapping about in his coattails like an absurd species of penguin. "You'd think I had a pair o' mothers fussing o'er me!"

Steve smiled to himself. It was the thought of his friends that renewed his resolve. He turned back to his work.

 _Now, what did Frankie say about water in the engine, again?_

Frankie, of course, was a fellow pilot back in the air force. He was a cheeky, eager kid - more like a boy than a man, really. Steve more than half-suspected he'd lied on his registration form. But if he was the youngest of the pilots, he was also the best mechanic. Apparently he'd worked with his dad, making the machines they flew. Now he knew them inside out. The kid could fix almost anything short of outright combustion. Steve wished he was here now, even if he was a chatterbox.

 _Frankie, old boy,_ Steve thought. _What I'd give to have your advice right about now._ He vowed if he ever saw the kid again, he'd take his every word as gospel.

Often, Steve and the other pilots had wished the kid would shut up about engine care and all that. Most of them cared more about shooting up the Germans than about polishing engine parts. But none of them could deny that his advice had saved their asses at least once. Thanks to Frankie, Steve had learned a lot more about the craft he flew than he did from his instructors. The thing about hearing a high-pitched voice not yet cracked by puberty yakking on and on about the same damn things - it was kinda hard to forget the things it said.

It was too bad Frankie hadn't had much to say on what to do if your plane was shot, crashed into an exotic sea, and very nearly torched by an army of women straight out of ancient Greek mythology.

With a chuckle, Steve crouched and began to survey the array of engine parts spread out on a nearby rock. He'd spent the entire evening dissembling the plane's innards, wiping each one clean with a bit of cloth. To his delight, most of them were in workable condition, if extremely waterlogged and in some places, beginning to rust. He still didn't dare look too hard where the German's fire had taken out one of his propellers. He was afraid to see the extent of the damage. So for now, he focused on cleaning the parts unaffected by the blast.

What was really troubling him (besides the gaping black hole he was currently ignoring), was how strange the engine looked. Of course, one could hardly expect the engine of a German plane to look exactly like a British one. But this one was totally alien to any plane Steve had ever flown. There were entire parts he'd never seen before. On the outside, it looked ordinary enough. Perhaps it was a prototype of some sort...

He sat back on his heels, rubbed his forehead. _One step at a time, Trevor. One step at a time_

He decided to look about in the cockpit. Regulation kept a basic toolkit and other things stored in there. Maybe he'd find something to help explain the weird engine design.

Just as he had straightened up (slowly - training had been, well...the usual), he detected the softest of sounds behind him, amongst the white trees. It couldn't have been his guards; the Queen had given them strict instructions not to gawk while he worked. Maybe he had imagined it, he was bone-tired after all...no. There it was again.

Spy instincts kicking in, he seized a short metal tube in one hand and turned sharply towards the noise. At that moment, the full moon broke out from behind a wrack of clouds. The grove was bathed in silver light.

Steve squinted at the shadowy figure that emerged from the trees, evidently realizing hiding was useless in the light.

"Who's there?" he demanded.

Instead of replying, the figure shifted. It pulled off its hood, and uncovered the lantern it held in one hand. The light fell upon the face of a young woman - one he already knew all too well.

"Steve Trevor," said Diana. The woman who had saved his life, at the cost of his freedom. "We need to talk."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Need to talk, indeed! At last, some much needed Steve and Diana interaction approaching!**_ _ **I don't know where Frankie came from...he just sorta popped up while I was writing Steve's struggle with the engine. Perhaps he'll come in handy as the plot progresses, who knows. Also: y'all can probably tell I know absolutely nothing about the inner workings of WWI aircraft. Please feel free to call out any of the BS some of my descriptions will probably be ;)**_

 _ **P.S. Thank you to mysterious Guest reviewer - I totally agree that Steve needs a lil' respect! Soon enough, my friend, soon enough...meanwhile, thanks for the encouragement!**_


	9. A Deal is a Promise

_Earlier..._

Diana drew a deep breath and tried to calm the beating of her heart. She had to admit she was nervous.

After all, she was not in the habit of leaving her bedroom through the window.

Of course, she had done so, once, as a little girl. But her nursery window had been much, _much_ closer to the ground. And that was years ago, when a rope of twisted bedsheets had been enough to support her tiny frame as she slid down.

She stared down at the drop to the ground, broken only by the branches of an olive tree. A fall from this height would guarantee a week in the healing pools, not to mention a great many questions. And Diana knew she could never lie her way out of an explanation. It simply was not in her nature.

As it was, she had been almost overcome by guilt, when she had asked Althaia to let her alone. It hurt, to have her friend believe that she did not want her company. They always had a delightful time of preparing for celebrations and festivals together. Being the closest in age out of all the women on Themyscira, their closest friendships were with one another. But while Diana also shared a camaraderie with her fellow warriors, Althaia always stood aloof, more dedicated to her study of herbs than anything else. Diana tried to push away the image of Althaia arriving at the Feast of Selene alone.

 _I will make it up to her somehow,_ she thought.

Resolve hardening, she stepped softly to the door and checked one last time that it was locked. She left her candle lit, well out of reach of anything that might burn. To anyone who passed by her room, it would appear as though she were still within. She knew there would be plenty of questions asked when she did not show up to tonight's feast. But she would deal with them when the time came. Tonight, she had a mission that could not wait.

It occurred to her that her mother might be displeased at her absence. Diana clenched her jaw. _She is already angry with me. What difference does one more offence make?_

She perched precariously on her windowsill, clutching her makeshift rope tightly in both hands. She half-smiled at how strange she might look. Like a naughty child once again. _Well, as long as no one sees me..._

She peered down at the ground once more. It looked terribly far away.

One last deep breath. Diana slid of the windowsill, and began to climb downwards. For a moment, all was well.

She didn't know how it happened. All she was aware of was a horrible tearing sound from her makeshift rope.

Diana fell.

A heart-stopping moment of weightlessness -

\- and then the rope snapped taut, nearly jerking her arms out of their sockets. Diana bit her cheek to keep from whimpering. Glancing up, she saw that the rope had torn, but not fully. _Oh, thank the gods._

It was no easy matter to leap away from the wall and grab hold of the branches of the olive tree. Diana's arms trembled. But she had made it.

When her feet hit solid ground at last, the thrill of escape tingled through over her skin. She glanced up at the firelight burning within the Great Hall. For a moment, she wished she could be there, amidst the revelry.

Then she pulled her hood over her head, and turned her silent steps to the cliffs.

She had a tryst to keep.

* * *

They stared at one another, Steve still clutching the metal tube in one hand, Diana holding the uncovered lantern. Underneath her heavy cloak, he could see she still wore her training armour, which meant she'd never shown up for the Amazons' feast. Her dark hair was still bound in a long braid. Steve wondered if she carried a sword within the folds of her cloak. He gripped the pipe tightly.

For a long moment, neither spoke nor moved.

At last, Steve broke the silence. "What happened to my guards?" he asked. Something told him he need not fear harm from this Amazon at least, although she could probably snap his neck with her bare hands. But he was wary; clearly she was here without permission. If she _did_ decide to attack him, he'd be defenseless - the Queen's command couldn't save him.

Diana glanced up the cliffs towards the palace. "They were weary and cold," she said. "It was not difficult to convince them to join in the festivities, while I stood guard in their stead."

Steve wasn't convinced. He already had the sense that the Amazons would not so readily abandon their posts. That was one thing about them that he admired: their adherence to duty.

"You're the princess, though, aren't you?" he said. "They wouldn't agree so easily to you missing a party."

"The darkness kept them from recognizing me." She cocked her head to one side. "It's just a pity the moonlight decided to give me away to you."

"Don't blame the moonlight," he said dryly. "I knew you were there even before I turned around. I heard you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Believe me, Steve Trevor, if I had not intended to reveal myself to you, you would never have known I was here until I was standing right beside you."

Were it not for the underlying threat beneath her words, Steve would have chuckled. Doubtless she was right. These women possessed abilities he'd only heard of in myths and legends - why not impossible stealth as well?

"Well then, your Highness," he said, carefully, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

She walked towards the plane, holding her lantern aloft. The light fell upon the German insignia.

"I know what this is," she said, without turning around. "And I know what you intend to do with it."

He decided to play dumb for as long as he could. "Do you, now? Because I'll welcome any ideas you have on how I'm supposed to restore it to your mother's satisfaction."

She turned sharply. "You would knowingly break your promise to remain on this island and learn our ways? By attempting to escape in this thing?"

 _So much for playing dumb, then._ Steve gestured helplessly at the wreck. "Listen, I don't even know if 'this thing' will ever work again!"

"You told a lie to my mother and my people," she went on, accusingly. "You withheld your knowledge of what this thing is and what it can do. They - _we_ spared your life. By all sacred laws of honour, your life is in our debt. And here you are, planning to leave without fulfilling this debt? You made a vow, Steve Trevor."

"Hey, I never swore a vow of any sort! I had no choice in this whatsoever!"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "Do you have no sense of honour at all?" she asked, seeming genuinely bewildered.

"I'm a spy! This is what I do, alright?" He could feel the anger building inside of him, born from his growing frustration with the plane and with his situation. And with this woman. "I may not be proud of it, but I do what has to be done. To survive."

"So it's every man for himself, then," she said, shaking her head. "If that was the rule I lived my life by, you and this piece of metal would be at the bottom of the ocean right now."

Steve folded his arms. He felt he was being petulant, but he was too exasperated to stop. "I never asked for you to save my life, princess."

"Perhaps I made a mistake in doing so."

The second the words were out of her mouth, he could see that she instantly regretted them. She bit her lip, and a scarlet blush stained her cheeks.

"I spoke wrongly in my anger," she said, quietly. "I'm - I'm sorry."

Now it was Steve's turn to feel his face heat up. He'd always prided himself on acting the gentleman. Never before had he lost his temper with a lady, and here he was squabbling like a schoolboy.

"No, you're right," he said, slowly. "You did save my life, though you had absolutely no reason to. I have no right to argue with you."

She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. "Everyone has the right to speak her - or his - own thoughts," she muttered, more to herself than to him.

He suddenly thought back to last night at the beach. Although it had been in his favour, he'd thought it odd how the Queen hadn't let her daughter speak like the other Amazons. She looked now much as she had then - a flushed young maiden, more than a confident warrior.

They were silent for a minute. Neither dared look at the other.

Finally, Steve asked the question for them both.

"Are you going to tell them?"

She wrapped her arms about herself, staring stormily out to the sea. "I don't - I don't know."

 _Well, that's better than yes, anyhow._ But he couldn't help asking, "Why not? I mean, why wouldn't you?"

She turned away, but not before he caught her brush a hand across her eyes. And suddenly, the realization hit him.

 _They won't listen to her. Just remember last night, at the beach._

 _Even if they did - they wouldn't believe her._

She was the youngest person on this island. Odd as it seemed, he was sure of it. In all his time here, he'd never once seen a child. That meant the Amazons could be hundreds - thousands of years old. It also meant they were firmly rooted in their ways. They would not be convinced by the words of their youngest, most inexperienced warrior.

Besides - even the Queen herself would have trouble getting the Amazons to believe in the idea of a flying machine. These people used bows and arrows, for crying out loud. They had proved more deadly than Steve could have ever imagined - but bows and arrows nonetheless. It was obvious that during the Amazons' isolation, the world had left them far behind in terms of weapons and technology.

Her voice broke into his thoughts. "You and I are not so unlike, Steve Trevor," she said, slowly. "No matter what we do or say..." She stopped abruptly.

He had been surprised into silence. As he waited, she seemed to suddenly make up her mind. She took a deep breath, and turned towards him, looking straight into his eyes once more.

"I cannot speak against my mother's wishes," she said. "I may not agree with it - but she is my queen, and she is only doing what she judges to be right. I must keep my silence.

"But," she continued, "neither can I allow you to escape. It is not only my duty as daughter and Amazon to follow my mother's will, but to enforce it as well. We both know you hope to escape in this metal thing." She looked at him sternly. "And we both know I cannot allow that."

Steve felt a slight pang. Deep down inside, he'd harboured a small, unreasonable hope that she would be on his side. That she could be convinced to turn a blind eye, and allow him to escape. But now he knew her sense of honour would not permit his sentence to go unfulfilled.

"I understand," he said. "But you do know I have to try and fix this airplane, no matter what my own hopes are. The Queen ordered me to restore it, so your people can study it." _As if training wasn't enough to keep me busy._ But he kept that part to himself.

She nodded. "Yes. You too have a command to obey. But I have thought of something that will allow us both to fulfil our duties."

"I'm listening."

"You will give me something of yours, something valuable. So long as this token is in my keeping, I will know that you will keep your word to remain on this island and serve your sentence under my mother's decree."

Steve almost laughed. "That's all? I was afraid you were going to put me through some blood ritual or something."

Her eyes widened. "Are such barbaric practices common in the world of man?" she asked, horrified.

"No, no!" he cried. "It's just, uh - in terms of your idea, I don't have anything of much value on me right now, you see."

"Yes, you do," she said. Then she pointed at the watch on his wrist. His father's watch.

 _Dammit._

"This?" he asked, indicating the battered old timepiece. "Just an old thing, it's not worth much - "

She stepped closer. Her eyes were glinting. "But it is _to you_."

He swallowed. "What would you know about it," he said, gruffly.

"It belonged to your father," she said. Her voice was suddenly gentle. "You told me, remember?"

He stepped away quickly. "I can't give this to you," he said.

"I will not keep it forever," she said, holding her hands up, palms facing forward. "I will return it, the day you go back to your world. I swear it."

He fixed her with a hard stare. "And what if I never go back?" he asked. "What if your mother never releases me? Has that occured to you?"

"My mother would never go back on her word," she said, "and neither will I. A deal is a promise, Steve Trevor, and a promise is unbreakable."

He shook his head. She was certainly clever, identifying exactly where his weakness lay. As a spy, he couldn't help but admire her quick-witted strategy.

Alright, then. If guaranteeing the safety of his secret meant giving up his watch temporarily, he'd do it. After a moment of hesitation, he loosened the watch from his wrist. He glanced at it once, rubbing a thumb over its faded surface. Then he handed it over to Diana.

"Not a scratch," he warned.

For the first time that night, she smiled. "You have my word," she said, and he believed her. "Do I have yours?"

He nodded. "Yes."

They shook hands, she a little uncertainly at first. Apparently hand-shaking wasn't an Amazon thing.

"I will be here every night," said Diana, pocketing the watch.

A flourish of music floated down from above. They glanced up together.

"Won't your people notice?" Steve asked.

She shook her head. "I will take care that they do not. All that matters is that you have someone watching you, who really knows what you are capable of."

"It won't be too interesting, I'm afraid," he said, gesturing towards the wreck. "I don't actually know what I'm doing."

That smile again. "I gathered that much from your guards," she said. "They don't have much faith in your restoring the - the _airplane_." She seemed to be testing out the word on her tongue.

"Do you?" he asked, curious.

"I am here to fulfil my duty, and ensure you are fulfilling yours," she reminded him. "Whether I have faith or not is besides the point." She set down her lantern and perched herself on the nearby trunk of a fallen tree. "And one more thing, Steve Trevor."

He raised his eyebrows. "Have you decided on the blood ritual after all?"

She ignored him. "Don't call me princess, or your Highness. No one does on this island. I'm just Diana."

He glanced at her. In the silvery moonlight, sparkling off of the waves, she looked like the nymphs in his old literature textbook: pale, dark haired beings rising out of the shadows. She was right - the word _princess_ didn't suit her. More like _goddess_.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked. "If I am bothering you, I can sit further off." She made as if to get up.

"No, no," he said, a bit quickly. She sat back down, assured.

"That's good," she said. "I wouldn't want to miss anything you happen to discover. Besides - I'm sure you could use some company."

He felt a smile tug at his mouth. "I certainly could. Diana."


	10. Discoveries

**_A/N: What's this? Two updates in one week? Whaaaat?_**

 ** _Let's just say I'm making up for lost time. I'd like to push it to two updates a week from now on, just to really keep me rolling on this fic. Hopefully the plan holds up...fingers crossed !_**

* * *

Diana was dreaming.

In her dream, the invaders had returned to Themyscira. They had overrun the beach, and were flooding through the city like ants over fallen fruit. Diana and several other Amazons had been forced to retreat into the throne room. They had barricaded the door - but the invaders were banging on it, trying to break it down. Suddenly, Antiope materialized next to Diana, shouting, "Diana! What are you standing there for? Do something!" But Diana found she was rooted to the floor with a sudden unnatural fear.

 _Move!_ she screamed at herself.

 _Bang! bang! bang!_ went the door.

Diana jerked awake. To her relief, she found she was not frozen in the throne room, but in her own bed. Yet the savage banging on the door went on.

 _What in the name of Zeus - ?!_

She sat bolt upright in bed. For a moment, still under the influence of her dream, she felt strangely afraid of whoever - or whatever - was outside her bedroom door. Then she shook the feeling off. Leaping out of bed, she strode over and resolutely yanked the door open. "Mala?" she asked.

Her warrior friend's face peered in through the narrow opening. She broke out into a relieved smile. "Diana! You're alright, then?"

"Me?" Diana frowned. Suddenly her dream came back to her, and she had a horrible thought. "Is Themyscira under attack?"

Mala frowned. "Whatever makes you think that?"

Diana shook her head. "It's - it's nothing. Just a dream."

The other Amazon blinked for a moment, then shrugged. "Sorry about the bangning," she finally said, apologetically. "But we were all so worried. I was sent to summon you, and when you did not reply to my repeated knocks and calling, I feared you were ill. It's just - you've been acting so strange, Diana! First you never appeared at the feast last night, then you did not show up at this morning's training - "

"What?" With a start, Diana noticed the brightness of her room for the first time. She looked out her window. Even with a brain still fogged by sleep, she could see that it was a lovely morning - or rather, noon. The sun was high in the sky, the ocean simmered an azure blue in the distance. She'd obviously overslept. She'd never done so before - most likely because she had never before stayed up into the small hours of the morning, watching a man fiddle around with an airplane.

It had been only four or five hours before dawn, when both of them had returned to their quarters, Steve Trevor having made no progress. Yawning, Diana had made her way back under her bedroom window, climbed up the olive tree, and up her makeshift rope ladder once more. Thankfully it had not ripped any further. The last thing Diana remembered was hiding the rope, then falling into her bed, utterly exhausted.

She had slept the entire morning away. _Oh gods._ That meant she had missed nearly half of today's training.

Diana locked eyes with her fellow Amazon. Dread fell like a stone into the pit of her stomach.

"Antiope is going to kill me," she said.

Mala winced in sympathy. "I don't think so," she said. "But - she will definitely come close enough."

* * *

It was with aching limbs that Diana half walked, half stumbled into the moonlit grove that night.

To her surprise, Antiope had not said a word upon her late arrival at the training grounds. The silence itself was rebuke enough. But her aunt had then proceeded to train her more rigorously than ever before, testing her every skill until Diana was nearly shaking with exhaustion.

And still Antiope was never satisfied.

This in itself was nothing new. Her aunt had always been a demanding instructor - it was what made her the best. And Diana could not deny that it had made her the warrior she was today. But now more than ever, she felt that something had arisen between her and her aunt.

Perhaps this was what fuelled the determination in her steps tonight. _I can make this right,_ Diana thought. _Once she and mother realize what Steve Trevor's machine does, they will understand. They will_ all _understand._

A breath of night air off the sea served to lift her spirits somewhat. Diana quickened her pace as she wove her way through the dark trees. She had passed the two guards a while back, as they were encamped on the other side of the grove. It was a good position: the distance prevented any temptation to gawk at the pilot's work, while effectively cutting him off from escape. Diana noted that the guards seemed more sleepy than alert. Doubtless they considered any tricks on the man's part to be futile and quite out of the question.

Fortunately for everyone, Diana knew better.

She paused for a moment at the edge of the clearing where the airplane lay. Steve Trevor was dangling headfirst into the hole where the pilot was evidently meant to sit. She could hear him muttering to himself, something about a manual? Strangely, the rest was gibberish to Diana. Like all the other Amazons, she was well-versed in hundreds of languages. But she had never heard the terms the man was saying under his breath. She shrugged.

Just then, the moon was shrouded by a few wispy clouds. The clearing grew darker, lit only by the stars' dim glow. An idea came to Diana.

 _He bragged last night about detecting my presence,_ she thought to herself. A slow grin crept across her face. _I shall teach him a lesson._

Summoning all her stealth to her aid, she glided across the clearing and stopped right beside the pilot. His upper half was still hidden inside the airplane, but he had ceased digging about. Diana heard the muffled sound of him cursing the fickle moonlight.

"Oh, don't blame the moonlight," she said, throwing his own words back at him.

"Agh!" Steve Trevor gave a convulsive jump, startled. With a bang, his head hit the inside of the airplane's opening.

Stifling a smile, Diana helped him pull himself out of the airplane. "Never mind looking about for a weapon, Steve Trevor. It's just me - Diana."

He glared at her, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. "You nearly gave me a goddamn _heart_ _attack_ ," he fumed.

She spread her hands apologetically. "Well, I _did_ warn you last night..."

"I suppose you did." He even chuckled a bit. "So is this gonna become a habit?"

"If I told you, all my future arrivals would lose their element of surprise."

He groaned.

She settled herself on a nearby rock, drawing her cloak closely against the cool breeze. "So. Have you made any progress?"

"I don't know yet," he said, sighing. "I was hoping to find a manual inside the cockpit, to find some explanation for the structure of the engine. I've never seen this make before, and I'm willing to bet HQ hasn't, either. Otherwise I would have been briefed before heading off to Germany. It's very strange."

As he reached into the cockpit once more, Diana sat and tried to puzzle out his words. _Manual? HQ?_

"Aha!" came the triumphant exclamation. Steve emerged from the airplane, waving a tattered booklet in one hand.

"Is that it? The manual?" Diana asked, intrigued.

He grinned. "Sure is. And best of all, most of it is still legible. Watertight compartment kept it from being wrecked by the water. You've gotta hand it to the Fritzes - they know how to make a secure cockpit."

He dropped to his knees, carefully spreading out the manual on the ground. He then proceeded to pore over it, muttering to himself and making a great noise flapping the pages. For the next half hour or so, Diana could get no explanation out of him. For her part, she could not make heads or tails of the manual's contents. Not that she couldn't understand the language it was written in. But the terms, like those used by Steve, were alien to her vocabulary. At any rate, most of the pages consisted of odd diagrams, symbols, and pictures.

Finally giving up on reading over the pilot's shoulder, Diana stood and walked over to the plane. It looked so forlorn in the darkness, Diana almost felt sorry for it - as she would feel sorry for a wounded animal. She had to resist the urge to pat its metal surface.

She peered into the cockpit. The pilot's seat was shredded to pieces, the glass window in the front was cracked and, in some places, completely gone. Then Diana espied the compartment Steve had been talking about. There were still a few things inside. Curious, Diana scooped them up and stood looking at them.

The first thing that caught her attention was a small square of paper, imprinted with the image of a girl. Her wide eyes laughed up at Diana. She wondered if this was a painting - if so, it was a very lifelike one. She also wondered who the girl was, and if she had been dear to whoever had really owned this airplane.

The next was a string of wooden beads, attached to a cross-like pendant. It could have been jewelry - but what need would a pilot have of that? Diana shrugged and put both the beads and the miniature painting into the pocket of her cloak. Something told her they had been sacred to someone else. It would not be right to throw them away. It occurred to her that perhaps she ought to show them to Steve - but again something stopped her. These belongings were not for anyone's eyes but the owner's. As it was, Diana felt slightly guilty for looking at them, as though she had been spying on someone's private life.

But the third thing she had found did not seem personal. It was a round metallic device, rather like a dial. It was attached to a broken ring.

"Steve?" she called.

"Yeah?" came the reply.

"Come look at this. I found it in the same compartment as the manual."

He rose, a confused frown on his face. "It's very strange," he said again, evidently still thinking of the manual's contents. "This engine model seems to operate on a different system altogether. It's better, stronger, faster. And much more durable. Able to sustain more damage than the average tin can."

He took the device from Diana's hands and examined it. "It's a lock of some sort."

Diana frowned, too. "Well, if there is a lock...there must have been something important locked up in this airplane of yours."

"It isn't actually mine, you know," he reminded her, turning the lock over in his hands.

She thought of the personal relics she had discovered. "Yes. I know."

Steve gave her an odd look, but didn't comment. Instead, he reached into the cockpit again. His face contorted in surprise.

"There's a sort of safe in here!" he exclaimed. "It was disguised to look like the bottom of the compartment. Clever."

He dragged out a black box. It was surprisingly large, considering how well it had been hidden.

"Look," Diana pointed. "You can see where this lock used to fit. It must have been broken when you crashed."

Steve nodded, looking more excited than Diana had ever seen him. He opened the box, to reveal a jumble of metal oddities, and some odd-looking tools. His face lit up.

"These parts match some of the ones I saw in the diagram - the ones I couldn't find in the wreck!" he said. "These could replace at least some of those destroyed in the blast!"

His excitement was contagious. "Do you really think you can fix it?" Diana asked, forgetting herself for a moment.

"I don't know. But this makes the job a whole lot easier. These pieces are obviously delicate ones that couldn't be easily repaired." He looked thoughtful. "It's as I thought. This plane must be a prototype of some new German model. They didn't want their expensive toy to go to waste in the event it got damaged, so they equipped it with spare parts."

"A new model designed by your enemies, you said," Diana murmured. "Superior to anything you'd ever seen before. I wonder that you were never aware of it until now." A new thought crossed her mind. "Steve - where did you get this airplane, again?"

He spoke slowly, as though remembering. "I got it from General Ludendorff's secret research center. They had all sorts of new, devilish inventions in there. This prototype must have been one of them."

Diana nodded. "So...it had never been tested before you stole it. Even they did not know if this airplane could be fixed."

He set his jaw in a determined line. "Well, I guess we're about to find out for them."


	11. To Give and To Receive

During the first few days, Steve felt very nearly overwhelmed by the enormity of the task before him. He had to bring this hulk of foreign technology to life, using nothing but his bare hands, a faded manual, a case of spare parts and odd tools, and the memories of nagging reminders from his kid friend, Frankie.

Oh, and hope. Let's not forget that.

It took a few deep breaths, but Steve finally got started. He organized everything he had found and took inventory, scratching little marks on the back cover of the manual with a stub of pencil. It was disheartening to see how many pieces were missing, even with the contents of the safe they'd discovered. But there was nothing for it, so Steve just proceeded as best as he could. He had never been one for crying over spilled milk.

He spent an entire night just cleaning out the inside of the plane's metal hull. It had been badly dinged up, and of course, blown away in one spot. He planned to use some of the metal plating from the floor of the cockpit to patch it up. He also needed to reattach the end of one of the wings, and some of the tail. But how the hell he was going to do that without the proper tools, he had no clue.

To his shock - and seemingly hers as well - it was Diana who furnished the solution. It turned out the Amazons had other crazy artifacts besides the Lasso of Truth. One of these was a torch that waxed hotter than the usual flame, when the bearer muttered a few words in what Steve guessed was Ancient Greek. The next night, with great difficulty, Diana smuggled it out of its vault and down to the grove.

"Holy _shit_ ," Steve said breathlessly, as the torch magically burst into blue flames. There was no other way to describe it - it really did seem like magic. After a moment, though, Steve noticed that Diana was frowning the way she did when something puzzled her.

"That is one of the words you often use, but which I have never heard of in any language," she observed. "What does it mean?"

Steve suddenly blushed, and it wasn't due to the heat of the torch. He wasn't usually one for bad language around ladies. The sight of a magical torch was no excuse for breaking the record now. "It's, uh - not a word used in polite company," he said, finally. "Let's just leave it at that."

Diana shrugged, and they both proceeded to don the visors she had brought. The torch proved to be perfect for welding the metal together.

Steve grinned. "I like this thing," he said. She smiled back.

* * *

The torch was not the only time Diana surprised Steve with her invaluable help. If anything, the second time was even more unexpected than the first.

Several days later, with the plane's exterior more or less in one piece, he had begun reassembling the engine. But he was soon forced to stop. He simply couldn't go any further without the missing pieces. He turned to Diana in his growing desperation.

"Is there any way your metal workers could recreate these?" he asked, showing her pictures from the manual. But she shook her head.

"Their craft extends only to weapons, armour," she said. "We do not have the means or knowledge to create such precise things as these."

He sighed in frustration. _Stumped again._

The next evening, Diana did not appear at her accustomed time. Steve was at first wary - he wondered if she was planning to jump him again. But an hour went by, then two, and still she did not come. Anxiety began to gnaw at him. _What if she's changed her mind about keeping all this secret. Then what?_ But he needn't have feared.

At around midnight, he heard her step into the glade. He turned, the sensation of relief sudden and strong in his chest. But the next, it was gone.

"Good God, Diana - what happened to you?" he asked, rushing forward. She was missing her heavy cloak, dressed only in light-weight clothing. And she was dripping water from head to toe. She clasped a small sack to her chest, shivering.

"N-n-never mind me," she chattered. She held out the sack. "Here."

Mystified, Steve opened it and looked within. Then his eyes widened, and he dumped its contents out on the sand.

There were the missing engine parts, slick with sea water. Strands of seaweed still clung to some of them.

"Diana - where? How?" he said, incoherent in his shock.

"D-dove for it, same place I r-rescued you - and where the airplane washed ashore," she explained. "Those are the ones you sh-showed me, y-yes?" She frowned. "Steve, what're you doing?"

Almost without thinking, he had struggled out of his woolly coat. Instantly, the cool night air sent a chill down his back. This only urged him on. Swiftly, he pulled the coat around Diana's shaking shoulders and sat her down. In less than two minutes, he had piled up some driftwood, and lit it with the Amazon torch. It had taken longer to actually light the torch itself, because Diana was shivering so hard she could barely get the secret words out.

Steve couldn't believe it. She'd swum out into the ocean, risking her own life for him - again. Why? She wanted him to fix the airplane because her mother decreed it. But was that really worth it?

She'd finally stopped shaking, to his relief. "Diana?" he asked. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "Better now. Thank you."

"You risked your _life_ , Diana. For these little pieces. Why?"

"Because you needed them," she said, as though it should have been obvious. He pulled a hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I owe you. Again."

It was a sign that she had recovered somewhat, when she gave him a sly grin. "Well, this is a very nice coat. Perhaps it will do as payment for this small debt..."

Steve laughed. "So, first you take my watch, now you want my coat, too?" Then he became serious. "Diana, I - thank you."

She turned back to the fire, so that he couldn't see her face. "You're welcome."

* * *

For following nights, it would be nice to say that Steve had no more difficulty with the engine. But as can be expected, there were many complications even with pretty much all the necessary parts. He soon got used to the feeling of dirt and engine grease up to his forearms, and streaked across his face.

Once, Diana gravely informed him, "You look as though you are going into battle."

It often felt that way. Steve wrestled with the plane's innards for nights, sometimes feeling as though his work was having no effect. The only time he'd remotely felt like this was back in a course for mechanics he'd taken, years ago. In comparison to this, that stuff seemed child's play.

Around one in the morning, he'd be escorted back to his quarters. But instead of collapsing onto his mat, he burned candle after candle reading the manual, deciphering it until he practically knew it by heart. This new German engine was genius, he had to admit.

 _Well, guess that makes me a genius too_.

He was so close. He could feel it. Every night brought him closer and closer to victory, he was certain. And now, like a runner in full view of the finish line, he could feel himself sprinting, pushing himself beyond his limits.

Unfortunately, it was taking its toll on him.

* * *

For Diana, the first sign that something was wrong came one evening, when she walked into the grove to find Steve fast asleep.

At first, she wondered if he was merely deep in thought. He was leaning back against the airplane's patched hull, the manual resting across his chest. He snored once, and Diana jumped. _Great Zeus, he really is asleep._

For a moment, she was as still as he was. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Reason told her to wake him up. If the guards were to find him sleeping when they came to escort him home, it would not bode well for him. And besides, it was what he would have wanted - for her to wake him up. She knew he hated wasting time that could be spent solving the riddle that was the engine.

But then she saw the drawn lines on his face, which she was certain had not been there before. She saw the stiffness in his limbs, and the limpness of his body. He was exhausted.

The flare of anger surprised her. _They are doing this to him, for no real reason,_ she thought. _They are beating him down beyond the strength of mortal man - and they do not care._ She quashed the mutinous thought instantly. She could or would not, even in her mind, name exactly who _they_ were.

Still, she couldn't bring herself to wake him. Suddenly, moved by an impulse, she knelt and slipped off her cloak. Careful so as not to wake him, she laid the thick cloth over him like a blanket. She was thinking of a few nights ago, when he had given her his own coat. She could still feel the pleasant warmth that had washed over her then. _I suppose I am returning the favour now,_ she thought.

But the peaceful moment did not last. Presently, Steve started awake. Diana stifled a laugh at his expression of utter bewilderment.

"You fell asleep while working," she explained. "I did not want to wake you."

He looked surprised. "Oh. Thanks, Diana. But you really should wake me next time." He dragged himself into a standing position, handing back her cloak with a nod. Suddenly he seemed to realize what he was doing. "Is this..." Realization dawned. "Have you, uh, been here this whole time?"

She nodded. For some reason, his face went red.

They soon got back to work as usual. But this time, when the guards came to take Steve back up to his quarters, Diana followed. She watched as the light in his room burned long after he should have been resting. She knew he was still poring - no, _obsessing_ \- over that manual. She found herself worrying.

Her fears did not go unfounded.

* * *

The very next morning, training consisted of sparring. Diana had been called out more often than usual. She suspected her own lack of sleep was affecting her skill. It was a pity that she was never paired up with Steve. She could never openly speak to him anyway. They had both agreed on acting as though their evening collaborations never happened, and that they were still relative strangers to one another. Otherwise, the Amazons may have begun to suspect something.

It was a reasonable plan. But today, it forced Diana to watch in silence as Steve was badly defeated by Thalia in a duel.

She wished desperately she could help him. His technique was all wrong. She knew by now that this was not from lack of skill, but pure exhaustion. Usually he was able to fight through it. Today, however, he was completely out of it.

It did not take Thalia long to disarm him, twisting his left arm in the process. With a cry, he was down.

For a long moment, everyone waited expectantly. But Steve did not get up. He seemed to be trying to stifle a groan. Finally a few healers came forward. Seconds later, they called urgently for a stretcher. The pilot's arm was broken.

Diana's hand flew to her mouth before she could stop herself. But no one was paying attention. Antiope had signalled the return to practice, and Diana lost sight of Steve amidst the flurry of weapons.

As soon as possible, she slipped away to the healing houses. Luckily, whatever they had needed to do was done, and the healers had left Steve alone to rest. Diana went in unhindered.

"Steve?" she whispered. "Are you alright?"

He turned a weak smile over to her. "Ah, it'll be fine. Doc said I'll be good as new after a couple trips to the healing pools."

She sighed in relief. He grinned, though right now it looked more like a wince.

"Had you worried, huh?" he said.

She stiffened then, though she could not have said why. "Well, yes, of course. How soon can you get back to work on the airplane?"

He closed his eyes. "I'll have to miss a few nights," he sighed. "It's a shame...no, I know! I can tell you what to do, and you can still go down at night. If you're willing, of course."

Diana nodded. "I'll do it. Just tell me how."

* * *

That night, Diana walked swiftly through the trees. She was muttering Steve's instructions over and over under her breath, so as not to forget them. She was so engrossed, she was for once oblivious to the signs around her. That would explain how easily she was about to be surprised.

She had just stepped into the glade when a figure emerged from the shadows behind the airplane. A lantern shone in Diana's face, blinding her for a moment.

"Who goes there?" she shouted, attempting to shield her eyes.

"Hush Diana! It's only me." And with that, Althaia lowered the lantern and came forwards.

"Althaia!" Diana gasped. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you the exact same thing. Diana, you do realize you are not supposed to be anywhere near the man, do you not?"

Diana tried for innocence. "I see no man standing here with us."

Her friend rubbed her temples, just as she used to when Diana pestered her as a child. "Diana. There is no need for disguise, or explanation. I have known for a while now."

Diana blinked. "You have? Then why - why - "

" - haven't I told your mother?" Althaia finished for her. "Because, Diana: I know, as well as you do, that what they ask of him is impossible. It is evident that he needs your help."

Diana nodded. "Then you understand why I must continue to do this."

"I know I cannot stop you," her friend sighed, ruefully. "So I came to give you this."

She pressed a woven pouch into Diana's hands. She could feel a small glass bottle hidden within the cloth.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A mixture I've been working on," Althaia replied. "It takes the place of sleep in restoring strength. All you need to do is place a few drops in the water you drink in the morning. It's not perfect, but it will help." Abruptly, she turned as if to go, her mission fulfilled.

"Wait." Diana seized her friend's arm, and looked into her face searchingly. "Althaia, I must ask - why are you doing this? My mother - you must realize my mother would not approve."

Her friend stared up at the palace. She spoke haltingly. "I know. And at first I was indeed afraid to do anything but witness the man's struggle in silence. But when I found out that you were helping him, I felt ashamed of myself. I - I am not brave like you, Diana. I never could be. But I wanted to help you, and this was the only way I could think of."

Diana threw her arms about her friend and embraced her tightly. "Althaia, you _are_ brave - braver than you know," she said, her throat strangely choked all of a sudden. "Thank you for this. I'm afraid I don't deserve it."

Althaia laughed, albeit a little shakily. "Well, you did abandon me at the Feast of Selene. No, do not trouble yourself! I am only teasing."

But Diana shook her head. "I know - but still I'm sorry for that, and for keeping secrets from you, too. You are practically my older sister - I should have trusted you."

Her friend looked at her seriously. "If we are being honest with one another, there is another question I must ask. Diana, why are _you_ doing this? Not just because you pity the man - there is something else. What is it you need, hm?"

Diana was silent for a moment. But she knew the truth.

"I need to prove to my mother that she should have listened to me on the beach. I need - I need her and Antiope to _see_ me again, Althaia. And if it takes helping this man fix his machine to prove what I know, I will do it."

Althaia squeezed her hand. "Then may you have the blessing of the gods, Diana. Just please, be careful. Remember - he is still a man after all."

* * *

Two nights later, Steve was back on his own two feet.

All those hours of sitting still had begun to drive him crazy. It was killing him not to be working on the airplane, especially as he had felt so close to fixing it at last. It helped that Diana was willing to act as his substitute. But he needed to be there himself. It was with great relief that he heard the healers proclaim him fit for service, though he still needed to keep his arm in a sling. At first he hadn't understood why they kept him in just on a broken arm, but it turned out he had twisted an ankle as well. He just hadn't registered it amidst the greater pain of his arm.

As before, his guards deposited him with the airplane, then left for their camp on the other side of the grove. When the flicker of their torches had dwindled into the distance, Diana emerged from her hiding place. She had already been working on the engine. Her hair was tied back loosely, and stray curls kept falling into her face. Her attempts to brush them away had left smudges of engine grease all over her face.

"Steve!" she said, lighting up. "You're back!"

"And about time too," he chuckled. "I was going to go out of my mind with boredom."

She gave him a glare. "Serves you right, for killing yourself not sleeping."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a hand and cut him off. "Never mind that now. Here is something that will help." She showed him a small glass bottle filled with some clear amber liquid. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think booze is the answer to this one," he said.

"What? No, no - it is an energy replenisher. You need only mix it with your drink to restore your strength. This bottle should last us a while yet. We will need it until the engine is complete."

"Where'd you get it?" he asked, curiously.

"A friend," she said quietly. "One we can both trust."

Steve wanted to know more - was this friend really trustworthy enough to keep their secret? But he saw that Diana thought so, and crazy as it was, he believed her. So he merely nodded.

"Alright, then," he said. "Let's see what you've got going on with the engine."

Proudly, Diana showed him her progress. To his surprise and delight, she'd actually done quite a bit of work. In fact, so much that...

"Diana?" he asked. "About that potion you just showed me..."

"Should we take some of it now?" she inquired.

He spoke slowly. "Yes. We'll both need it. But I don't think we'll be needing it for much longer."

* * *

 ** _A/N: Phew, long chapter! Hope y'all enjoyed the little fluffy bits. Can't wait for the relationship to progress beyond this sort of contract/alliance thing they have right now. Shout out and thanks to guest reviewer "Lou" - your kind words simply made my day!_**


	12. Victory

"Pass me the servo motor, Steve. Please."

"Here." A pause. "Wait, how'd you know that's what it's called?"

She gave him a pointed look. "You are not the only one who can read that manual. I'm not stupid, you know."

No, she definitely wasn't. As she bent over her work once more, Steve couldn't help but shake his head in admiration. Diana had to be one of the fastest learners he'd ever met. When he'd been laid up at the healing houses, he'd been desperate for someone to be working on the airplane on his behalf. He knew Diana would be able to remember his instructions - but he'd tried to give her the simplest repair jobs, just in case. That way, he figured if she messed anything up, it'd be small and easy enough to undo.

He hadn't expected her to put together half the engine.

It was his second evening back in the grove, and Steve could hardly believe how far they'd come - and how fast they were moving ahead. Despite having his injured arm still tied up in a sling, he found he was able to keep pace with Diana. They worked for the most part in silence, hardly needing to speak to know what the other was doing. After a while, Steve noticed that he barely needed to turn before Diana placed the tool he needed into his hand.

They made a good team. Steve chuckled a bit at the thought.

"What is it?" Diana asked, with a brief puzzled smile.

"I was just thinking," he said. He gestured vaguely with the wrench. "I never thought we'd get on so well."

She raised an eyebrow. "Am I such terrible company?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "Not at all, I just meant - "

She laughed then. "Back to work, Steve Trevor." Lightly, she punched him in the shoulder - forgetting that it was his injured one. Before he could stop himself, Steve winced and gave a small hiss of pain.

"Oh!" Diana cried. "I'm sorry, I forgot - "

He waved her apology away, although he was still grimacing. "Don't worry about it. It's not that bad, it's just...we humans don't heal as quickly as you guys seem to."

She was quiet for a long moment. Then she blurted, "I'm sorry, Steve. Not just about this. About...about what they're doing to you up there."

He was surprised into silence. It was her first acknowledgement that anything about all this might be wrong.

"So, you think your mother may have made a mistake?" he asked, carefully. But she bristled instantly.

Glaring, she said, "If you are questioning my loyalty to my mother and my queen, you do not know me."

He felt a sudden flash of bitterness. "You're right," he agreed. "I don't. I don't know anything about you, or your people, and why they're doing what they're doing."

"They're doing it because they believe it is right," she said, stiffly.

"Oh yeah? You sure it's not just because they hate me? Because every time I step onto that training field, it's like everyone's out for my blood. For all I know, they've got orders to 'accidentally' kill me."

She looked shocked, then outraged. "My mother would never order such a breach of trust as that! I don't know about your country, but here we are truthful in all we do."

"Oh, _truthful_ is right," he scoffed. He was more hurt than he wanted to let on, by her implication that he was suspicious because he was guilty. "They've made it quite clear how they feel about me, Diana. Why - why do they hate me so much? I've done nothing wrong except crash land on this island, then nearly die defending it. Just explain that to me."

Her jaw tightened. "They don't hate you, Steve."

"Then how do you explain this?" he demanded, nodding at his broken arm.

"It was _training_ , Steve!" she said, exasperated. "It's not meant to be fun and games!"

"Diana." He rubbed a hand across his face. "The camp where I was trained as a spy could get pretty vicious sometimes, with the competition between candidates. I know what it feels like when someone's trying to slit your throat out of hatred. Training has nothing to do with it."

For a second, she looked as though she wanted to hit him again. Harder this time. He didn't flinch away.

Finally, she broke their stare. With a frustrated sigh, she slumped against the airplane's hull, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know, Steve, all right? Ever since the morning you came, things have not been the same between my people and me. They just - they have not been speaking to me. At this point, I know as much as you do."

Steve felt suddenly very tired. Tossing down his wrench, he slid down and sat across from Diana. She didn't look up.

He sighed. "I believe you. And I'm sorry I lost my temper. It's just - it's hard, you know? Getting beat up on day in and day out, without being given so much as the privilege of knowing why."

"They don't hate you, Steve," she said again, her words muffled. Even so, he could hear her uncertainty.

With a deep breath, she uncovered her face and spoke steadily. "I was raised to believe that our world and the world of men were kept apart for a very good reason. And that reason was to protect us from their cruelty. When my people were young and new to creation, my mother says we were foolish. We trusted in the benevolence of men. We did not realize that men had already been corrupted beyond saving by Ares, god of war. Zeus' creation, once beautiful and good, had turned selfish and cruel. They enslaved us - the Amazons who had been sent to save them. It was only thanks to my mother's courage, and my aunt's, that we are now free."

Steve nodded to show his understanding. "Sounds like your people didn't have the best experience with mine, then."

She laughed humorlessly. "Exactly," she said. "As my mother says, we were burned once. And only fools return to the flame that has already burned them before."

Steve couldn't help it. "Even if the last time they saw that flame was over three thousand years ago?"

She glanced up at him sharply. "The corruption of Ares was deep and irrevocable. My mother saw so with her own eyes."

"I'm not questioning your mother's judgement on that head," he said, hands raised in surrender. "Men sounded pretty shi - that is, pretty bad back then. It's just - don't you think some things may have changed in all that time? I mean, there could only be two possibilities at that point: either men wiped themselves off the face of the earth, or they changed. For better."

"Or for worse."

"You don't know that," Steve countered. A new idea occurred to him. "Hold on. In three thousand years, did your people ever send out any scouts to the outside world? To, well, update your knowledge?"

She shook her head. "Once you leave Themyscira behind, it can never be found again. And we would have no way of communicating with one another. The power of the gods hides this island. Amazons do not have the power to undo that protection."

 _Apparently German planes do,_ Steve thought, glancing at the airplane Diana leaned against. It seemed it was pure luck he had punched through whatever barrier hid Themyscira from detection. He didn't buy the idea of godly protection. But he didn't say so.

He considered what Diana had said. He thought about watching his family, his entire country enslaved by another civilization. The surge of rage that hit him was alarming. Even if three thousand years passed, he'd never want to associate with that civilization again. But...

"You guys do realize we don't live as long as you apparently do?" he asked. "I mean, your mother can remember back three thousand years. You still look like the Ancient Greeks. I can't believe I'm saying this, but - you must be practically immortal. My people - we're not. So why do your people still blame us for the actions of our ancestors? We had no part in it."

She gave a helpless shake of her head. "I cannot answer you, Steve. I wish you could ask one of the older Amazons yourself. They are wiser than I."

Steve wanted to laugh - at this point, he wasn't sure asking for a history lesson was among his list of acceptable actions on this island. But he saw that Diana was troubled, so he decided not to push it.

"Well then," he said, and his tone was light. "I think they'd be more ready to answer my questions if I gave them a real, working airplane first."

She smiled a little. "A pity you'll get all the credit for it."

He spoke without thinking. "I could give you a ride in it, you know."

"You mean - fly?" she asked, wide-eyed.

He laughed at her open-mouthed expression. She was such a strange combination of proud warrior and wondering child. He didn't know what to make of it sometimes.

He stood with some difficulty, not being able to use his bad arm. He picked up his wrench and made his way over to the airplane, intent on finishing his current task. It was a struggle, though, trying to tighten the bolts with only one hand.

"Here." Diana stood and placed a hand over his. Together, they twisted the bolt home.

Steve found the sensation of her hand on his not unpleasant. With a glance, he saw her cheeks were still flushed from their argument.

Abruptly, the moment was broken by a pipe bursting right under their noses. Both Steve and Diana jumped away, startled. But it was too late. The oil (Diana had smuggled that in, too) had already splattered all over their faces.

"Aw, shit." Steve scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his good arm. "Are you alright?" he asked Diana.

To his shock, she was shaking with laughter. "You should see your face, Steve," she gasped.

"Is that the pot calling the kettle black?" he shot back with a grin. She didn't seem to get it, though. She was trying to wipe the black stuff away from her eyes. Steve guessed they probably both looked pretty ghastly.

"Here, let me," he chuckled. He wiped his hands on his trousers, then picked up a clean rag. "Hold still." Gently, he tried to clean the worst of the oil from Diana's face. He was vaguely surprised that she let him. When he was done, they both paused for a moment.

Then she pulled away, suddenly. They stood, awkward, for a moment.

"Thank you," she said.

He cleared his throat. "You're welcome."

As he turned away, Diana thought she saw him blush. She didn't understand. He was kind - so very unlike the men she had been told harrowing tales of. He never lashed out in anger, though he had every reason to. She simply could not reconcile the man before her with the barbarians from her mother's memories.

Suddenly all business, Steve had gone back to the engine. Diana tried to follow his example, and they worked in silence for the next hour. She became so absorbed in their task, that she did not realize it was almost dawn until the sky began to turn pink.

She was just about to suggest another dose of Althaia's potion, when Steve jumped up. His eyes were rimmed with dark, sleepless shadows. But they were shining.

"Diana, stand back - I'm going to try starting the engine," he said. She could tell he was trying not to hope too much. But she couldn't help the sudden surge of excitement that rose in her as well.

Almost tripping over himself, Steve dashed into the cockpit. He fiddled with the dials, muttering under his breath. Then -

"There!" he said, triumphantly.

Nothing happened.

They shared a look of crushing disappointment.

Then the engine roared to life.

Diana gave a little startled shriek, stumbling backwards. The airplane was louder than the wild beasts in the mountains and the thunder of the sea. It was terrifying.

It was victory.

"Steve!" she shouted. "We did it!"

He leapt out of the cockpit, disbelief and joy fighting for control in his expression. Then he caught her hands. "We did it!" he half-laughed, half-gasped. "We really did it, Diana!"

Suddenly, Diana found herself lifted up and twirled. The sunlit sky whirled above her.

And she laughed. Unbelievably, she laughed. Because for the first time in a long time, she could believe that everything would really, truly be all right.

The way it was before.


	13. Betrayal

Hippolyta rarely ever had time to herself. As queen, one could not really expect respite from the hundreds of pressing tasks on responsibilities the title entailed. But Hippolyta would not have it any other way. This was her duty, to the gods and to her people, whom she loved more than life itself. That was all that mattered.

Still, it was nice to be alone once in a while.

She raised her face to the brilliant blue sky. It was that hour of morning when the air was still cool from the dew of night. She had risen early, as was her custom. It was her favourite time to walk about in the palace gardens, free to hold counsel with herself. Or just enjoy the view.

Even in the peaceful seclusion of her haunt, she could hear the faint sounds of ringing metal coming from the training grounds. Of course this brought her thoughts to Diana. For a moment, she imagined her daughter in her place as queen. The next, she dismissed the thought. In time, perhaps, Diana would grow to become the right Amazon for the throne. But right now, she was still young. There was so much she did not know. So much she could never understand, no matter how many history lessons Hippolyta herself had given her as a child.

The queen sighed. Motherhood could be terrifying as it was. But ever since that man had arrived...

Just then, a young woman appeared from around the grove of palm trees. Hippolyta recognized her as one of the messengers from the palace.

Thrusting away her thoughts, Hippolyta smiled. "Good morning, Lea. You have a message for me?"

"Yes, my Queen, I have two," the woman said, with a bow. "Firstly, Menalippe just sent me to tell you that the Torch of Prometheus is still missing from the vault."

Hippolyta frowned. "I was not aware it was missing at all."

"Oh. She did not want to trouble you with it, my Queen. She thought it had merely been misplaced."

Hippolyta's frown deepened. "Sacred artifacts are not simply misplaced," she said. "Never mind, I will look into it later. You said you had another message?"

"The General said to inform you that - well, it seems Diana is still asleep. She was supposed to be training an hour ago."

Hippolyta sighed and briefly rubbed her temples. This was Diana's second exhibition of tardiness. She would have to bring it up with her sometime.

She had been right about Diana not being ready to be queen. In many ways, she was still the little girl who had begged for bedtime stories every night. How Hippolyta wished that were still true! But the stories she might ask for these days might be much more dangerous.

"My queen?" inquired the messenger. Hippolyta realized she was still waiting for a reply.

"Tell my sister to continue training as usual," she said. "I will speak to Diana about it...sometime."

The messenger bowed rather doubtfully and left. Hippolyta didn't blame her misgivings. She knew quite well she would never bring it up with Diana. A whisper began to gnaw at her heart.

 _Coward._

* * *

The words began as a vague whisper at the edges of her unconsciousness. Slowly, they gained force until Diana was wakened by a frantic shout.

"Diana! Wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open, to see Althaia's concerned face hovering about her. "Did I sleep in again?" Diana asked, realization dawning.

Her friend nodded. "I came quickly as I could. Your aunt sent a messenger to the queen! It seems they are both worried about you." She frowned. "Did you not take the potion I gave you?"

It took a moment for Diana's disoriented mind to remember. "Oh! We finished it all last night. Or this morning, I suppose. Althaia, the airplane has been fixed!"

"The airplane?" Althaia echoed. "You mean that ugly heap of metal? It cannot be."

All of the elation of that early morning came flooding back into Diana. She caught both of her friend's hands in hers and spun her about. "It's the truth!" she laughed. "And what's more, I helped it come to pass. Now they'll all _have_ to trust me again."

Althaia spoke dubiously, although she was smiling at Diana's excitement. "I don't know, Diana. Missing training has lessened their trust in your punctuality quite a bit."

"Oh, never mind that. Such troubles belong to the past. Besides, are you not eager to see how the airplane works?"

The healer shrugged, sensible as ever. "Not particularly. Anything created by man cannot be so spectacular as all that. Still, when does the pilot plan to present it to the queen?"

Diana shut her eyes to remember Steve's exact words. By that time, she'd already been foggy with exhaustion. "He says he just needs one more night for 'last minute details'", she said at last. "He will go down to the beach alone tonight, and announce the plane's completion at training tomorrow morning."

All the time she had been speaking, Althaia had been helping her into her armour. Now, she began to swiftly braid up Diana's hair. "You said he is going down alone?" she asked.

"Yes," Diana nodded. "He thanked me for my help, but said he wanted to finish himself. He wanted it to be a surprise for me as well." She smiled, remembering his optimism.

 _It's gonna be the first time the Amazons have ever seen an airplane in action,_ he'd said. _I don't want you miss out on the surprise._ Then he'd laid a hand gently on her arm. _Go get some rest._ _You've done enough._

"There, done." Althaia gave her a little push. "Now go! Before your mother comes."

"Thank you, my friend!" Diana called back as she ran out the door. It felt good, to know someone was on her side. Althaia. And, strange as it was, Steve. It was without surprise that Diana realized she had come to trust him.

Oh, how wrong she was.

* * *

Diana did not see Steve at training that day. Either he had been exempted from his duties in order to attend to the airplane, or he had already been injured in the time that she had been sleeping in. She doubted that last possibility, though. If he had been injured, all the Amazons would still be laughing when she arrived.

The day passed as a blur. This was partly due to exhaustion, partly due to excitement. After all, Diana had only ever seen the airplane as it fell into the sea. She wondered what it would be like to see it rise up into the sky. She wondered what it would be like to ride in it with Steve, to see the world fall away below her, to see the clouds so close she could almost touch them...

It felt strange that evening, going straight to bed instead of climbing out her window. Strange, but not unwelcome. Mind awhirl, body aching, Diana instantly sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.

It was in the middle of the night that she awakened without explanation. She had had no nightmare, no loud noise to disturb her sleep. She thought she had heard...no, that couldn't be. She had taken to locking her door ever since she had begun sneaking out at night. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed.

A mist of moonlight streamed through her window onto the floor. All of Themyscira was quiet and still. Diana was just preparing to burrow back down into her pillow, when she realized vaguely that something was wrong. For a moment, she was tempted to ignore the instinct. Then she saw the footprints illuminated by the moonlight. Footprints that did not belong to her. Footprints that belonged to wide, heavy boots.

And Diana saw what a fool she had been.

Heart racing, she scrambled out of bed and ran to her trunk of carven wood, where she kept all her little belongings. Frantically, she began to pull out item after item. A childhood doll. A box of tiny scrolls. The first arrow she had ever shot with. She did not stop until she had emptied the entire trunk. Then she sat there, paralyzed by utter disbelief. And betrayal.

This was where she had kept Steve Trevor's watch. The token of his promise to abide by his sentence.

It was gone.

* * *

Steve moved silently but swiftly beneath the trees, a sack slung over his back. He held onto it with his injured arm, using his good one to navigate his way through the foliage. The pain was made bearable only by the prospect of freedom.

The airplane was pretty much ready for flight. He'd begged off of training, so he could finish it off during the day - an easy task, now that the engine was running. All he had left to do was install the propeller, clean out the cockpit, and erect the landing gear.

When darkness had fallen, he had been able to sneak past his guards back up to his quarters, so that he could retrieve his stuff. It should have been impossible, what with the Amazons' incredible senses. Luckily, they'd gotten more complacent of late.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _Goodbye, Themyscira. Goodbye, getting beat up on every day. Goodbye, queens and warriors._

 _Goodbye, Diana._

It had stabbed him with guilt to lie to her. On multiple occasions. He knew she'd feel betrayed, confused by his apparent lack of honour. That hurt a little more than he liked to admit. It was fortunate, then, that he wouldn't be around to see her reaction. That didn't make it any easier.

But he had no choice. If he was ever to get off this island - that had, after all, been his goal ever since he landed here - he had to do what he did best. Be a spy. Survive. There was a war on, and it was high time he got back into the thick of it. He shrank away from the thought, no doubt about it. Already he could hear the whine and rattle of airplanes bearing down on him, the wide eyes of his younger comrades, the screams of the dead...

Steve shook himself sharply, trying to stop the rush of sensations he hadn't felt in so long. He hadn't realized just how different Themyscira was from everything he had known before. _Remember this place,_ he ordered. _Remember why we fight. So the whole world can be as beautiful as this someday._

Never mind that he'd been finding it harder and harder to believe that was possible.

 _Focus, Steve._ He drew in some deep breaths. Remembered what he'd set out to do tonight.

He emerged from the grove. There it was, sitting in a pool of moonlight: the airplane. A little worse for wear, perhaps. The patched up hull barely resembled its former pristine surface. But it worked, and that was what mattered.

Heart pounding with excitement - and just a little apprehension - Steve tossed his stuff into the compartment. He dared not turn on the engine yet. Not until he was ready to take off.

First, he had to run one last inspection. He paced slowly around the airplane. He felt absurdly proud of it, of what he had accomplished. No - what he and Diana had accomplished together.

He hesitated, for the briefest of moments, standing still in the middle of the clearing.

That moment was all it took.

Steve was suddenly aware of the shadow of a footstep behind him. He whirled, instantly on alert -

Too late.

A rope wound itself tightly around him, pinning his arms to his sides. He half-turned and briefly saw two eyes, smoldering beneath a dark hood.

Then something hit him on the side of his head, and the world went black.

* * *

When he came to, all Steve knew was that his head was on fire. No - there were burning spikes driven into his skull. That was the only explanation he could think of. It hurt too much to open his eyes.

He groaned, then froze. He was in a standing position, his back up against something solid and rough. And he was immobile - a rope bound him in place from shoulder to foot.

 _No, no, no._

This was it. They were going to torture him, feed him to some mythological creature for all he knew. Someone grabbed hold of his chin, forcing his mouth open. Steve braced himself for excruciating pain...

...and got a mouthful of smooth, sweet liquid instead. He shut his mouth and swallowed the honey-like stuff down, and almost instantly the pain in his head began to lessen. Slowly, he blinked his eyes open.

He was still in the clearing - there was the airplane not ten feet away. Not much time had passed - the moon's position had not altered. He was tied up against one of the trees at the edge of the grove. Diana stood in front of him, holding a bottle of the potion he had just drunk. She was glaring.

Well, he had plenty to glare about too. "Was that really necessary?" he demanded, though he knew perfectly well.

Her voice came out as a hiss. "You _traitor_."

He sighed, tilting his head back against the tree trunk. "Diana, we've gone over this before. You can't change my mind. I have to go back, it's my duty!"

"And this is mine." Suddenly, she jerked her arm back, and the rope around him tightened. She was still holding one end. "You will remain here, and I will call the guards. That is all."

"No, Diana, please don't," Steve said, breaking down in his desperation. He had been so close to escape! "They'll never understand. You have to let me go. Please."

Her mouth trembled. "You lied to me, Steve. After I - I can't believe it, but I trusted you." Her face twisted with bitterness. "I was wrong. And my mother was right. Men cannot be trusted." And she reached out and yanked the watch off of his wrist.

"How did you even get this, hm?" she demanded. "No, don't answer that. I found my lock broken. First you lied to me, then you broke into my _private chambers?_!"

Even now, Steve could feel himself flushing red. As urgent as the situation was, he'd made it a point to keep his eyes fastened on the floor. "Believe me, I never would have done that if it wasn't absolutely necessary," he protested.

She shook her head. "Save your breath for when my mother judges you, Steve. But I doubt any defense you make up will get you out of a lifetime of imprisonment." She turned away.

Desperation turned to anger. Steve spoke to her back. "Well, at least I won't be stuck on this island just because I choose to hide instead of helping the rest of the world."

That stung, and Steve knew it. Instantly, Diana whipped around, hand raised as though she would really strike him again. Steve strained against the ropes in one last bid for freedom.

Suddenly, the sound of a horn rang out in the night, wild and shrill. Steve and Diana both froze and looked up the cliffs towards the sound. Up by the palace, torchlight was flickering madly. Steve heard shouts and screams and the ring of metal.

They looked at one another, eyes wide.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asked first.

"Nothing good," she replied, already bending to retrieve her weapon - a short sword.

"Hey, wait," Steve said nervously. "Aren't you going to let me out? I can help."

She looked at him pointedly and gave the ropes one last tightening pull. "Or you would just escape the second my back was turned. I'm not stupid, Steve. Your mistake was forgetting that."

He tried one last time. "The smart thing to do right now is to let me go, so I can be of use! Think of your people, Diana - they need help!"

She threw off her cloak. Underneath, her armour gleamed in the silver light. She gave her sword a wicked twirl.

"I know," she said. "And I'm going to give it to them. Don't go anywhere while I'm gone, will you?"

"Very funny," Steve grumbled. But she didn't hear.

Sword in hand, she sped off towards the fray.


	14. Attack at Midnight

_**A/N: It's back! I want to thank you all for your extreme patience waiting for this long overdue update - if there's anyone still reading it, that is! I feel terrible not making good on my promises, even if life has been a little insane on this end. So, apologies all round - and without further ado, enjoy!**_

* * *

The last time Diana had heard an alarm this urgent, the palace was on fire.

 _She was quite young - not yet in her adolescent years. It was the night of a thunderstorm, and she was in a small, dry cave, secretly training with Antiope. She was so absorbed in executing a series of sword strikes Antiope was showing her, that she did not hear the alarms at first. Instead, she noticed her aunt pause, body taut and listening intently._

 _"What is it?" Diana asked._

 _"Danger," her aunt replied, already beckoning her to follow. They ran out and up to the palace. Red flames licked the stone from within one of the towers._

 _Danger! Danger! Danger! the horns seemed to cry. Diana stopped up her ears even as she looked on. At some point, her mother found her, carried her back to her chambers. Too distracted to even ask why Diana was dressed for combat._

 _The next morning, Diana joined the crowd of women gazing up at the ruined tower._

 _A bolt of lightning had split it open in the night._

It had been a random occurrence, a freak of nature. Now, as she threaded the streets leading towards the palace, Diana couldn't help but feel as though something of the same sort had happened again. _Danger!_ cried the horns. But this was no accident.

Diana sped through the gates, and was instantly swept along with a dozen or so armed guards. They too were running up to the palace, the source of the alarm. Diana caught sight of a familiar face.

"Mala!" she cried to her friend from training. "What's going on?"

The other Amazon's face was troubled. "I do not know, Diana. We haven't heard this alarm since..."

" - since I was a little girl," Diana finished. They both glanced up at the sky at the same time. It was clear. No sign of any natural disturbance.

Their dread deepening, the Amazon warriors quickened their pace. It wasn't hard to guess where the commotion was. In the courtyard, Diana could hear shouts coming from within the vault of sacred relics. One of the voices belonged to her aunt Antiope.

"I hear it too." Mala's face was intense. "They are in trouble. Amazons, draw swords!"

As one, they charged towards the closed door of the vault -

\- just as it exploded outwards.

Diana was knocked into a wall, the back of her head cracking against stone. The world swam before her eyes. As she fought through her dizziness, she dimly saw a huge black shape. At first she thought it was a person the size of a great horse reared up on its hind legs. But the shape itself made no sense: It seemed to have many limbs, and she could not tell which way it was facing.

It sent two smaller figures - Amazons - flying backwards. Then, with a hideous snarling noise, it bounded out of sight. The rank smell of decay that had accompanied it began to fade away.

But the damage had been done. Between the splitting pain in her skull and the horrible smell, Diana's consciousness began to waver. As if from a distance, a thought pulled at her, but couldn't quite reach through the fog of dizziness -

 _The healing cordial!_

In a flash, Diana's hands were fumbling at her belt. When she found the same liquid she had given Steve just minutes ago, she took a frantic gulp. To her relief, the pain began to ebb away, and her mind became alert once more. She breathed a quiet thanks to Althaia, who had invented the potion for her use.

Albeit a little shakily, Diana stood and gripped her sword. The other fallen Amazons were groaning, already being attended to by healers. A small group of Amazon warriors was conferring with Antiope in low, urgent voices. Diana joined them.

"Diana!" Antiope's face looked almost fierce. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Despite the dull throbbing pain it caused, Diana shook her head. "I'm fine. What happened here?"

Menalippe's jaw was clenched, almost as tightly as her hand gripped the handle of her spear. "I do not know how it happened. But it seems that it came through a portal that opened within the vault of relics." By this time they were walking swiftly, emerging into the courtyard of the palace.

Diana's eyes widened. "A portal? But how? And what _was_ that thing?"

Menalippe opened her mouth as if to reply. But Antiope silenced her with a look. Diana thought she saw her aunt's chin gesture subtly towards her. A flicker of understanding passed between the two older women.

"No time for explanations," said Antiope, tersely. "The beast, whatever it is, is on the loose here in Themyscira. I have sent out hunting parties just now, but they will need all the help we can provide."

Diana grabbed a fallen shield. "Let's go."

But Antiope seized her arm. "No," she said. "Diana, you must stay here. Your mother - find your mother, tell her what happened."

Diana pulled away, disbelievingly. "I am not a messenger! This is what I've trained for - to defend Themyscira. Let me go with you."

"We're wasting time," urged Menalippe. Just then, two Amazon warriors came panting up towards them. Their armour was streaked with dirt, their shields bore deep scratches. One woman was bleeding from a savage gash on her leg.

"What happened?" demanded Antiope, and Diana felt a jolt at the real fear in her voice. "How many losses?"

"None, General," one gasped. "But we were forced to scatter and retreat. The beast - it was too wild and strong for us."

Menalippe rushed forward to help support the wounded Amazon. "Did you see which way it went?"

The wounded Amazon spoke unsteadily. "It was almost impossible to see in the shadows. But I think - I think it was headed for the beach."

 _The beach. The grove._

 _Steve - b_ _ound and defenseless._

Icy fingers seized hold of Diana's heart. She inhaled sharply. "Oh gods."

No one heard her. They were too busy trying to staunch the flow of blood from the Amazon's leg. Antiope was speaking aloud.

"If it is headed for the beach, we can corner it against the cliffs, or drive it into the sea. Menalippe, we must send out a signal to - wait, Diana, where are you going? _Diana!_ "

But Diana heeded her aunt as the cry of the wind. She had only one thought as she ran back the way she had come.

 _What have I done?_

* * *

Steve had not been idle. Well, there had been those first few minutes after Diana had left, when he'd cursed and fumed at his incredible bad luck. Then he'd taken a deep breath and gotten to work. There was a reason he had managed to stay alive this long after the start of the war. He knew how to survive. He'd been in tighter spots than this. Well, perhaps that wasn't strictly true - but the tricks that had saved him in the past worked just as well here. Steve hadn't gone to spy boot camp for nothing, after all.

And so within minutes, he'd managed to free his good arm from the ropes that bound him toe to shoulder. The maneuver required a great deal of wriggling, and resulted in more rope burns than Steve found comfortable - but it worked. Quickly, he set to work freeing the rest of his body.

 _There!_ His other arm was now free as well. It was still held in a sling, of course, and quite useless. But Steve felt a burst of encouragement. He might still be able to pull this off - escape and fly off before anyone returned to discover him.

He felt a slight pang at the remembrance of those warning horns just minutes ago. In any other situation, he would not have hesitated to rush to the aid of others. But he knew by now that the Amazons were more than capable of handling themselves. If he helped them, all he'd get in return was the inside of a prison cell once they found out he'd tried to escape. He wondered if Diana had already told them.

His eyes fell on the airplane, mere feet away. All he had to do was finish untying his legs, and -

 _Snap._

Steve froze. Ever so slowly, his head turned towards the sound. He hoped he'd imagined it, but no - there it was again. The crackle of something moving underneath the trees behind him. Something large and heavy.

It was moving this way.

Steve felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. An awful smell hit his nostrils, like the stench of a decaying corpse. He heard another sound: a deep animalistic growl.

Steve closed his eyes. Whatever it was - it was right behind him. He heard a sniffing sound, like that of a wolf detecting its prey. Then he opened his eyes - and immediately wished he hadn't.

A grotesque creature stood before him, like something out of his worst childhood nightmares. It was huge - a good two or three feet taller than a man. But that was not what filled Steve with horror. It had four arms, each tipped with vulture-like claws. Its entire body was covered in reptilian scales, dripping with black sludge, as though it had crawled up from the depths of a grave. And atop its broad shoulders sat two heads - dog heads, jaws wide open in slavering grins.

It stepped towards him. One of the terrible faces, a mess of fur and scars, regarded him with savage glee. _It's hungry,_ Steve thought. _And I'm its next meal._

The creature gathered itself for the spring, and Steve shut his eyes, prepared himself for the tearing of claws and teeth.

It never came.

Instead, Steve heard a desperate cry, and the thunk of metal burying itself in flesh. Something rushed past him. There was a terrible shrieking noise, and the sound of an impact.

Steve opened his eyes. The monster was flailing wildly about, two of its arms clawing at a short sword that had been thrust into its back, just out of reach. The other two were lashing out at Diana in mad fury. To Steve's amazement, she was holding her own - unarmed save for the gauntlets on her forearms. She danced just out of danger, using her gauntlets to deflect the monster's savage claws.

But she couldn't hold out forever. Even now, as Steve began to struggle anew with his bonds, he saw the beast land a blow. Diana cried out, and a thin line of bright red blood ran down her face.

Fear and anger welled up in him. Almost without knowing what he was doing, Steve bent down; and tearing furiously at the ropes, he finally pulled himself free.

His first thought was to run at the monster head-on, tackle it, anything to get its attention away from Diana. But then he saw the sword driven deep into its torso. Steve couldn't believe it hadn't died from that stab wound. A horrible thought came to him. _What if it can't be killed?_

Just then, his frantic gaze fell on the wing of the airplane beside him. He saw the patched up metal, the black marks where the torch had welded the pieces together...

 _Even if it can't be killed...maybe it can be slowed down._

 _The torch!_

Time seemed to slow. Steve turned and threw himself behind the airplane. He reached out a hand to where he knew Diana had left the Torch of Prometheus the other night. _Almost...there!_

"Diana!" he yelled. Then he threw the torch with all his might.

Despite the stream of blood across the side of her face, Steve saw understanding click in Diana's eyes. In one fluid motion, she ducked under one of the creature's arms and leaped high. She caught the torch in one hand, hit the ground, and yelled something in Ancient Greek.

And the Torch of Prometheus exploded into flame.

The blast of pure heat caught the monster full in the face. Howling, it sprang backwards. Gritting her teeth, Diana advanced with the torch. The monster screamed as layers of scales began melting right off its body. The smell was terrible. But Diana didn't stop until the beast was flat on the ground, a grotesque mess of fur and scales and limbs. Only then did she extinguish the flame.

She collapsed to her knees. Shaking, Steve stumbled over.

"Steve," he heard her saying, as she gripped his hand tightly. "Steve."

"I'm here," he reassured her.

She looked at him urgently, insistently. "Steve. I'm sorry." She said it again. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Diana. Look, I'm alright. You saved me."

At that, a look of relief flooded her face. "And you," she said. "You saved me, too."

He nodded. "But I don't know for how long, so we've gotta get out of here. Come on."

But she held on to him and shook her head. "No, Steve - listen to me. You need to leave. Now."

"What?" Confusion froze him in place. "What're you talking about?"

"You almost died here, Steve. And it would've been my fault. You can't stay here - who knows what else will happen to you? You need to return to your own world - where you belong."

Just then, they heard shouts coming from under the grove of trees. Steve saw torchlight flickering, coming nearer. Diana began to push him towards the airplane.

"Go! Now, before they find you!" she whispered. Too dazed to argue, he began to move. But it was too late. The Amazons emerged into the clearing, bearing weapons and torches. Steve expected them to look confused, angry even.

Instead, they looked terrified.

"Diana!" screamed the General. "Look out!"

They turned together -

\- and saw the monster, deformed and hideous, rising from the ground. Its face was a mess of dripping flesh. Its one remaining eye stared bloodshot for a fraction of a second.

Then it spotted them. That baleful eye locked on Steve, standing beside the air plane. With a roar, it threw itself forward one last time. Not at Steve.

At the air plane.

Steve had time for just one thought to flash through his brain. _No. No!_

Then the monster landed with its full weight on the air plane, its claws shredding into its hull like soft clay. There was a final crunching sound, and a sickening hiss where the creature's blood burned into the metal. Where the greenish-black liquid fell, the airplane began to melt away.

"No!" Steve yelled. Horror and disbelief gave way to rage. Ignoring Diana's cry of "Steve, stop!", he grabbed the torch and ran at the beast. For the moment, all reason had abandoned him. All he knew was that that airplane had been hours of work and desperation and sweat, and it was his only hope, and he'd be _damned_ before he let it be taken from him now.

But his fury was his undoing. The monster may have been wounded beyond belief, but it was still more than human. With lightning speed, it lunged forward and closed its jaws around Steve's lower leg. He felt the stab of multiple razor teeth, and a strange burning pain where the creature's saliva and blood touched his skin. He screamed.

He felt himself flung to the side, felt a bone-shuddering _crack_ when his body hit the side of the cliff. He fought to stay awake, to keep from blacking out from the pain. The last thing he saw was the Amazon army, setting upon the monster with spears and blades of steel.

Then the world went white with pain, and Steve slipped into merciful unconsciousness.

* * *

 _ **A/N: By the way, thanks to Guest reviewer for that idea about Steve's family! I honestly never even thought of that aspect of Steve's story, and I love it! Thank you - I will definitely try to incorporate it into a future chapter :)**_


	15. Aftermath

It was the eerie quiet after the battle, when the dying flames illuminated the bodies of the slain and the taste of victory mingled with loss. Hippolyta had experienced it countless times, in the years when she and Antiope had led armies into war against the worst hell could throw at them.

But this was the first time she was left with the uneasy sensation that the damage had been done, yet still remained unseen. At least, to her eyes.

Right now, her eyes were stinging with smoke - and the dreadful stench rising from the body of the monster as it lay smoldering on the sand. At least a dozen Amazonian spears protruded from its scaly hide. While it had held the pilot hostage in its jaws, they were unable to attack. But the second the beast released him, the Amazons had surged forward, spears raised. Moments later, the beast was dead.

Hippolyta glanced at the revolting mess of skin and fur and blood. Suppressing a shudder, she spoke to Antiope. "We must dispose of the body," she said in a low tone. "But I hate to ask any of our Amazons to do it. I can barely stand to be in its presence, let alone touch it."

She needn't have worried.

At that very moment, something strange happened. The body of the monster began to quiver and steam. A few Amazons cried out and drew their swords, thinking it was somehow still alive. But the corpse merely collapsed in on itself, melting into the ground as though it was made of wax. With a last hiss, the monster disappeared completely. The only sign it had ever set foot on Themyscira was the black blood that still burned into the sand like acid.

For a moment, Hippolyta was struck speechless. Never had she seen anything like it. Then she drew a breath. Already the air seemed pure again. "Well, I suppose that solves the problem." When her sister did not reply, Hippolyta turned to look at her.

Antiope was visibly shaken.

Hippolyta motioned for the Amazons to retire. Most of them sought the healing houses, while a small guard remained just outside the clearing, wary.

Now that they were alone, Hippolyta placed a hand on her sister's arm. "Antiope - is everything alright? What troubles you?"

But she already knew.

Antiope took a shaky breath. "I am fine, only - I have not seen one of those foul beasts since...since..."

She did not continue, but Hippolyta knew. She squeezed Antiope's shoulder.

"You want answers, as do I. We'll soon have them, I swear to you."

Antiope did not meet her gaze, but stared out to sea.

"I am not the one who will want answers after this night," she commented after a moment. She gave a pointed glance in the direction of the steps leading back to the city. They watched as a distraught Diana followed the Amazons bearing the pilot to healing houses.

Antiope was uncharacteristically hesitant when she said, "Are you going to tell her?"

At least there was one thing Hippolyta was absolutely certain of. "No."

"I understand you sister, knowing what we know. But she will not. She is young."

"And for that reason, she must not - cannot know. She will never understand..." Hippolyta trailed off.

"Diana will not take well to you holding the truth from her," Antiope insisted. "You know that."

Hippolyta raised her eyebrows. "Withholding the truth did not seem to bother either of you, all those years when you were training her in secret. Against my express wishes."

They shared a small laugh - albeit one laced with exhaustion.

Antiope shook her head. "Well then, sister - you had better hope she keeps busy. She clearly cares for that man, though to what extent only time will tell."

Hippolyta wrinkled her face. "Do you really think I would allow my daughter to associate with one of their kind."

"Hippolyta, we were just attacked. By - by one of _them_. Who your daughter associates with is not quite a priority right now."

They were walking back to the city. But now Hippolyta halted, so as to search her sister's face. "You do not really believe this was a serious attack, do you?" she asked.

Antiope frowned. "You don't?"

Her frown only deepened as Hippolyta broke into a laugh. "Sister, please. Their kind - that enemy - they were all banished eons ago. By you and I, no less. I believe we did a thorough job."

"That only makes it more disturbing, Hippolyta! This was an attack on our home, at the very heart of our defenses. This was an act of war."

"This was an act of one - a single rogue agent, easily vanquished. It is not a cause for undue concern."

"You just said you wanted answers."

"And so I do. I want to know how it was that that monster simply materialized in our vault of relics. What I do _not_ need to know is why there was, in fact, only one. And that is because I already know the answer."

"Which is?" Antiope demanded.

"That it was not an act of war, Antiope. If it had been, do you not think we would have had more than just one of these beasts to worry about? In battle, they attack in hordes. Or have you forgotten?"

"Hippolyta, this has been the second attack in less than a month. A monster arrives not long after the arrival of a man. I do not think that is an accident."

"I do." Hippolyta placed both hands on her sisters shoulders and looked earnestly into her eyes. "Listen, sister. I know, better than anyone, what memories this attack must have brought back to your mind tonight. Believe me, I know. But that is why I do not think you are in a position to think reasonably at the moment. The invaders, your injury, and now this - a glimpse of the dark days - all of it is clouding your judgement."

Antiope was silent. Her hand went to her side, as though remembering an old pain afresh. Hippolyta knew that expression on her sister's face - stubbornness. She had seen it too often to miss it. They were queen and general. Leaders and warriors. But they were always sisters first. They rarely ever agreed, which resulted in countless arguments over the ages. When they were younger, it had sometimes resulted in drawn swords - in which case, Antiope would usually win. But not this time.

"Go," Hippolyta said gently. "You need rest."

It was telling of her exhaustion when instead of arguing, Antiope gave her a wan smile. "And you? How are you feeling about all this? Not as a queen, not as a warrior. Just yourself."

Hippolyta sighed. "I must admit I made a mistake in having the pilot spend so much time on the invaders' metal contraption. It was certainly a waste." Even with her inexperienced eyes, Hippolyta could see that the thing had been well and truly destroyed in the monster's rampage.

"I suppose we shall never find out what it was, after all. Without being able to study the technology of the invaders, our last hope at understanding and learning from their one advantage is gone. No matter; we shall do as we have always done. But you are right, it was a waste of time on his part."

Hippolyta looked up towards the healing houses. "I suppose someone must tell him what happened after he was knocked unconscious."

Antiope followed her gaze. Both of them were thinking of how Diana had run to the man's limp body, real fear in her eyes.

"Something tells me," said Antiope, "that task will not fall to your shoulders."

Hippolyta grimaced in distaste, but sighed. She began helping her sister back up to the palace.

"Well, perhaps it is better that way. I have more pressing matters to think of tonight."

* * *

Despite the insistent - and eventually impatient - requests from the healers that she go to her own quarters, Diana refused to leave Steve's side.

She wanted to be the one to break him the news, gently. She wanted to be there when he woke.

If he woke.

 _No_. Diana shook her head, refusing to even consider such a possibility. _Don't be a fool,_ she told herself. _He's going to make it_.

But during the first half hour or so, that seemed rather hard to believe. Steve looked terrible. The back of his head was swelling where it had slammed into rock. The healers soon pronounced that his arm, only recently beginning to heal, had been fractured once again. Possibly a couple ribs as well. And his leg...Diana could barely look at it. His calf was deeply gouged where the creature had sunk its teeth. There was blood everywhere, but that was not what turned Diana's stomach inside out. It was the poison that festered and bubbled visibly in the wound. She'd never seen anything like it before.

Fortunately, her friend possessed much more courage than Diana did when it came to these things. Althaia was called in almost immediately, being known as an expert on all dubious substances. It never failed to amaze Diana at the change that came over her friend when she was in the presence of the wounded. A new authority and assurance seemed to fill her. She quickly shoo-ed everyone but Diana from the small room. Then she began to work.

"Here," she said tersely, handing Diana a small pot of salve and instructing her to apply it to the cut on her own forehead. This Diana did, knowing her friend was saving her attention for the more serious victim. Muttering to herself, Althaia began crushing handfuls of herbs and minerals together, mixing them into a paste. She took a small pitcher of boiled water, and dropped a few leaves into it. A pure fragrance filled the air.

While Althaia worked and talked to herself, Diana sat herself in a chair by Steve's bedside. She found herself holding one of his hands - the one on the arm that had not been broken. Quite suddenly, she noticed a new series of injuries. They were strange: long thin lines along the outsides of his arms, an angry red. With a shock, she realized they were rope burns. From when she had tied him up. Guilt stabbed her anew. On an impulse, she began applying some of the salve she had just used onto the burn marks. It was the least she could do.

What felt like hours later, it was over. Althaia had managed to drain the poison from Steve's leg wound, cleaning it and bandaging it in white linen. Steve had not awakened, but his hand tightened around Diana's, his face tensing in pain. Then he had slumped back. But his breathing was more regular, some colour had returned to his face. He would be alright.

Althaia's eyes were rimmed with shadows. But she tried to usher Diana out of the room.

"You need your rest, Diana," she said. "Go. I will keep watch over the man."

With an effort, Diana smiled. "No, no - at this point, I think you will be able to sleep better than I. Thank you, Althaia. You saved him. Now rest."

Althaia opened her mouth to argue, but a yawn came out. "Very well. I will come as early as I can tomorrow." Then, kissing Diana on the forehead, she left.

* * *

The sky was beginning to blossom with the first light of dawn when Steve began to stir.

The world seemed still and peaceful, as though nothing amiss had occurred last night. Diana was curled up in the chair half-asleep, with a hot drink clutched in her cold fingers, and a shawl wrapped about her shoulders. The peace and quiet after the alarm was so profound, that she was doubly startled when Steve jerked awake.

"Diana!" was the strangled cry that came out of his mouth. He began to struggle, trying to get up and get a hold of his surroundings.

"Hey, hey...It's me," Diana said soothingly, trying to push him back down into a lying position. His frantic eyes locked onto her.

"Diana! Are you alright?" His voice was hoarse.

 _He thinks we're still in danger_ , she realized. "Yes, yes - I'm fine, Steve," she hurried to say. "We're safe - we're in one of the healing houses. It's almost morning now."

He finally lay back with a groan. "What - what happened?"

"Well..." Best keep it simple for now. She spoke lightly. "Nothing we weren't able to fix. You took a serious blow to the head. Your arm is broken - again. Maybe even a few ribs into the bargain. And your leg was really very revolting, I'll admit. Luckily for you, Althaia did not seem to think so. I think she was happy to have the chance to experiment on you with some of her latest healing potions."

"I'm always glad to be of service," he joked, albeit weakly. "But I meant - before all that."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you mean the part when you acted like a self-sacrificing fool with a death wish?"

"You're one to talk," he returned, which earned him a glare. He gave a short laugh, wincing when he accidentally moved his leg. Suddenly, memory dawned in his face. "Oh God. Diana, that thing - "

" - is dead," she assured him. "Killed by a dozen Amazon spears. Themyscira is safe."

"What the hell _was_ it?"

She gave a heavy sigh. "I wish I knew."

They were quiet for a moment. Both were trying to push away the memory of the terrible monster.

Diana dreaded the next question. But that did not stop him from asking it, much as she wished it would.

"And the plane?" He said it without looking at her. As if he was afraid to see her expression.

"What about it?" she asked.

" _Diana_."

The pain in his voice cut her to the heart. She could almost hear the struggle between fear and hope within him.

She opened her mouth to reply. But the words failed her. So instead, she took his hand. Carefully, she placed something inside, clasping his fingers around it before she pulled away.

He shut his eyes briefly. Then he opened his fingers to see what she have given him.

His watch.

He knew what it meant. There was no need for her to keep it any longer.

"Thanks, Diana." He tried to keep his voice from cracking, and failed miserably. He gave a pathetic attempt at a laugh. "Huh - would you look at that. Still ticking."

"I'm so sorry, Steve," Diana said, softly. "It's gone. And it was all my fault."

"No, it wasn't," he said, looking her in the eye for the first time. "Diana - listen. I broke my promise to you. I don't regret what I did...but I regret having to lie to you to do it. I'm sorry."

"Well, I suppose we are both to blame," Diana said, with a rueful smile. Their hands found each other, clasping in a new sort of understanding.

"So. What are you going to do now?" Diana asked, tentatively.

Steve stared at his watch. Then he looked out through the window, at the stream of smoke still rising from the beach.

"I don't know," he said.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thanks to y'all as always for reading...and for your patience, above all, with my inherent tardiness. You might be glad to know, however, that last week was not in vain! I just recently found that I had lost my way in the story, and had no idea what the characters wanted or what I was doing. So I sat down and did some planning, got my bearings. The result: I am pleased to announce the next five or six chapters are all planned out! Woohoo! Let's hope that makes for some more timely updates ;)**_

 _ **PS: To guest reviewer Flash, thanks for the idea! I do actually have an idea for where this beastie came from...but haven't worked out all the details yet. Will definitely keep your suggestion in mind as I do so! Thanks again :)**_


	16. A Storm in the Distance

The Amazon hit the ground. A cloud of dust rose from where she fell.

She was not seriously injured, but everyone could see she dared not move...due to the sword pointed at her throat by the Amazon she had been dueling with.

"A win for Mala!" Menalippe declared. A few cheers went up from the crowd of assembled warriors. But most of them were too weary to even offer applause.

The morning was fiercely hot, with a dry wind in the air and a cloudless sky above. The sun burned into Diana's back. Although they had only been training for an hour or so, she was sweating. She had been relieved when the time for one-on-one duels came. At least it meant she had a chance to simply stand, and watch.

Earlier that morning, she had left Steve's room with a hurried goodbye, and a promise to return when training finished.

"I'll be here," he'd said.

She laughed. It was good to know his sense of humour, at least, had passed the night unscathed. "Lucky for you. The rest of us will be working away in the heat, while you lie about indoors, waited on hand and foot."

His mouth twisted in an attempt at a grin. "Well...it's only fair, seeing as I've lost use of exactly one of each of those."

"Not for long, Steve," she promised. "You'll be back on the field in no time."

"Looking forward to it," he said wryly.

She had only been teasing then. Now Diana was seriously in danger of being jealous of Steve's predicament. And she was not the only one glad of a rest. She recognized some of the Amazons she had seen last night, during the attack. They too were exhausted, some clearly shaken by the disturbing invader.

"You would think Antiope would give us at least the morning to recover," Mala had grumbled to Diana earlier that morning. They had then gone to the training field, each secretly hoping that Antiope at least planned to go with an easier routine. But the instant they saw her, Diana knew it would be one of those days. One of those days when the woman before her would not be her aunt - but the General.

Her guess did not go unfulfilled. Antiope drilled them much too hard for so early on in the morning. Then she had ordered them into lines, and walked before them.

"Amazons!" she said, her face hard. Diana instantly tried to stand straighter. "As you all know, Themyscira was attacked last night. We still do not know where the intruder came from, but that is the Queen's concern. Ours? Ours is to be ready for the next attack when it comes."

One of the warriors in the front laughed. "But General - how can we even know if there will be another attack?"

All eyes turned to her.

Antiope halted her pacing, though she did not turn.

"What was that, Amazon?" she said.

Everyone shifted uneasily. _Do keep your mouth shut,_ Diana pleaded silently with her fellow Amazon. Vasil, her name was. Unfortunately, the other girl could not hear her thoughts.

"I mean, what if we are worried for nothing?" she went on, brazenly. "What if we are just being a little, well - paranoid?"

Antiope moved so fast, even Diana had a hard time processing what happened. In an instant, the General had the outspoken Amazon lying flat on the ground, a sword tip pressed against her chest. A thin line of blood trickled from her nose.

Everyone else stood frozen.

"Did you know for certain I was _not_ going to do that, Vasil?" Antiope asked, slowly and deliberately. Her face was perfectly, dangerously calm.

"N-no, General," managed Vasil.

"All the more reason you should have been prepared. Do you understand now?"

"Yes. Yes, General. Forgive my ignorance."

After a moment, Antiope let her up. The blood still running down her face, Vasil stood and took up her position again. No one dared even glance her way.

Antiope spoke louder now, to all the assembled warriors. "Overconfidence leads to foolishness. Foolishness leads to carelessness. And carelessness will get you killed."

They all swallowed, Diana included. She had never seen her aunt like this.

"So unless you want to end up underground, you will train. You will prepare yourself, because the enemy will try to find a weakness. And I do not intend to let that weakness lie amongst my warriors." She swung her sword, almost casually. "Are there any objections?"

No one said a word.

Antiope sheathed her sword. "Good. Menalippe, organize them into pairs for one-on-one duels. I want to see each warrior's weakness. And then we will spend the next several weeks rooting them out."

Diana bit her lip and tried not to sigh. She made eye contact with Mala, who shrugged. They were both thinking the same thing.

 _This is going to be a long day._

* * *

"A win for Mala!" Menalippe declared. Two healers, ever ready, came forward and helped the defeated off the field. Diana glanced at Antiope. Her aunt was staring at the duelers, perhaps taking note of how she was going to "root out" their shortcomings at a later date. Mala looked relieved as she left the field as well. Her turn was over, for today at least. Diana wished she could say the same.

Instead, she stood nervously with nine others as Menalippe looked over the list of Amazons who still had to duel. Diana had no idea when she would be called, nor who she would be pitted against. But she dared not turn her head to even look over the competition.

"For the next round," Menalippe began. There was a shuffle of anticipation. Diana tried to shrug off her exhaustion.

"Beryl," read Menalippe. "And...Steve Trevor."

 _What?!_

Diana's head whipped around so fast, she felt her neck crack in protest. She barely noticed. For there, limping forward onto the dueling ground, wrapped up in bandages, was Steve. TEven from here, she could see that his teeth were gritted together in pain and...determination. She'd seen that look too often to mistake it now. "Fool," she whispered furiously. What was he trying to do, get himself killed?

Then she saw the pallor of his skin, the way his unbroken arm shook so badly he could barely hold a sword. He could barely stand, for Zeus' sake! And that was when it hit her. For all his natural stubbornness, there was no way Steve would have pushed himself this far...unless he had been given no choice.

Diana saw movement from the corner of her eye. Her mother had arrived, standing atop the hillside where she often viewed the training warriors. Her face was impassive, even as she watched the pilot struggle to stand.

A hot, uncontrollable rage at the injustice and cruelty of it all rushed through Diana in a roiling wave. No one could deny her mother was abiding by her end of the bargain. But this - this was taking things too far.

Completely ignoring the confused stares of the Amazons around her, Diana turned and marched straight up to her mother.

"Order this to stop. Now," she said, fierce and low. "Mother, you must see that this is cruelty - he needs healing and rest, not - "

"He is fulfilling his end of the bargain, Diana," Hippolyta cut in coldly. "He is not your concern. Go back to your place."

Diana shook her head in disbelief. "Why are you doing this? What has he done to earn such punishment?"

"You wouldn't understand." Her mother's eyes were hard.

To her fury, Diana found her eyes filling with desperate tears. "Mother, please. Let him go back to the healing houses. I will take him myself."

"You will do nothing of the sort."

Diana clenched her fists. "You cannot stop me." She turned away.

"Diana - " her mother said warningly. But she got no further. What would have happened, they would never know. For at that moment, there was an outcry on the field below. Simultaneously, they both looked down.

Just in time to watch as Steve Trevor collapsed.

At first Hippolyta was confused. The duel had not even begun. But then, no - it hadn't needed to. For weeks, the pilot had been pushed beyond the limits of mortal man, sustaining injuries probably never encountered by his kind. Now, finally, his body had reached breaking point.

 _Great Zeus...I've killed him._

Hippolyta did not need the powers of a mind reader to decipher the expression on nearly everyone's face.

 _What have we done?_

Diana ran. Hippolyta watched as she dropped to her knees by the man's side. "He's burning up!" Diana cried. "I need a healer, now!"

Suddenly everyone unfroze, and healers came forward to carry Steve Trevor away. The rest of the crowd parted to let them pass, a strange look on some of their faces. Even from here, Hippolyta could hear their whispers.

"This must be a record. No one hit him even once this time."

"Just how many times had this happened in the last few days?"

"Too many, if you ask me. Poor fool."

"Perhaps - well, don't you think he was driven too hard sometimes?"

"Or perhaps he is just weak."

The healers carrying the man were nearly out of the field by now. But Diana, who was following, somehow still heard the last comment. She turned around, eyes blazing. But she spoke quietly.

"You should all be ashamed."

Then she turned on her heel, and left. There was a shocked silence.

"Alright, warriors." Antiope. "Back into formation! Next in line for a duel, Menalippe?"

Hippolyta shook herself. Really, it was probably best for everyone that the man was off the field for a while. All he ever did was get underfoot. She tried to muster her usual feeling of scorn, to erase her memory of the pitiful sight of the crumpled pilot and Diana's disbelieving eyes.

But try as she might, she could not quite extinguish a twinge of remorse.

* * *

For once in her life, Althaia was furious.

She was a healer, and she loved what she did. The way she saw it, the body was like a lock. Each one was unique, and a healer's job was to find exactly which key would work best for each person. Sometimes, there was no key - which was where Althaia's gift came in. If there was no cure, she made one. And it worked, every time. Althaia took pride in that. She liked to tell Diana that there was no greater reward than seeing a patient walk, fully healed, out of the healing houses.

Which was why it infuriated her to see her most recent patient brought back, in even worse condition than before. All her good work disregarded, sent to waste.

She wanted very badly to reassure Diana, tell her the pilot was in good hands. But as the morning dragged into afternoon, and Althaia had used every applicable remedy yet failed to awaken Steve Trevor from his deadly sleep...she began to worry. The man's breath was short and rapid, his skin was reaching an alarming temperature. The wounds, the heat, the exertion - all had been too much. Now she feared he had been pushed beyond repair. Rather like his metal contraption, which still smoldered on the beach.

She told Diana that everything would be fine.

The truth was, she'd never seen anything like this, let alone treated it.

Leaving one of the other healers to press cool cloths to the man's forehead, Althaia stepped out onto the balcony to breathe. Inside, the houses were dark and cool. Out here, the heat was nearly unbearable.

But something about the view struck Althaia as odd. Finally she realized what it was. The entire sky was a fierce, bright blue...except in the distance, behind the hills and mountainsides of Themyscira. Dark clouds were gathering, casting shadows across the sky. There would be a thunderstorm tonight. A savage one, if anything could be told from the preceding heat wave.

Storms were nothing out of the ordinary on the island. Yet Althaia felt an ominous shiver run its fingers across her skin. The feeling passed as quickly as it came. But the chill in her heart remained.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. And it wasn't just a thunderstorm.

* * *

 _Darkness._

 _For eons, there was only darkness. And pain._

 _No more._

 _The god has arisen from his own exile. It was he who freed us from our eternal punishment. Now, all we need is time. Time to heal, time to plan. Time to watch as the pathetic women warriors of Zeus turn on one another._

 _Word is the god is waging his own war in the human world. As though the human world could ever possess anything of interest to us. Even after ages of exile, I have not forgotten my purpose. Vengeance I crave, and vengeance I shall have._

 _The Amazons had forgotten us. No matter. Let the arrival of one of our own strike unease into their hearts. Let it sow discord in their ranks._

 _In the meantime, we will wait. And when the time is right, we will come._

 _And oh, how we will come._

* * *

 _._

 _._

 ** _A/N: Cue bad guy music! Seriously though, I had a blast writing this chapter. Believe it or not, I am extremely apologetic about poor ol' Steve's experience of "paradise island" so far. For anyone who feels the same - never fear! Things are about to get better for Steve at some point real soon. Looking forward to some more Steve + Diana interaction, dead ahead! Thanks y'all for reading, as always!_**


	17. The Longest Three Days

**_A/N: IT'S BACK! AND I AM SO SO SORRY - EVEN IF I WERE TO SAY IT OVER AND OVER IT WOULD NOT BE ENOUGH TO EXPRESS MY REGRET OVER MY RIDICULOUSLY LONG HIATUS._**

 ** _So the plan is to continue this fic to the end, because I'm the type of person who hates leaving loose ends. I hope to finish it before school starts up again in the fall, just cuz - well, you've all seen what happens when school takes over your life :(_**

 ** _So to thank y'all for your patience - if you're still around to read this! - here is an extra long update. Enjoy!_**

* * *

 _Steve was lost._

 _He was wandering some grey wasteland. Smoke pooled around his feet, so thick his eyes could barely pierce their roiling depths. The only changes in the landscape were the blasted trees, rising black and scraggly here and there. But even they looked all the same._

 _Suddenly, the world exploded._

 _All around him, the bark of rifles and the rattle of machine guns came to life, followed by bursts of flame and powder. Terrified, he dropped to the ground, hands clapped over his ears and eyes shut tightly. Every inch of him struggled to make itself as close to the ground as possible._

Please, God, _he prayed,_ not me, not me, not me...

 _His prayers were answered._

 _Suddenly, he found himself sitting upright. He was in a suit and tie, at a dining table draped with white cloth, surrounded by laughing people. Their smiles were bright, blinding. The smell of alcohol nearly overpowered his senses._

 _Steve shook his head._ What the hell?

 _The chandelier light dazzled him, fractured into a million shards of light by the crystals that dripped from the candles. Steve felt ill, and bewildered by the noise. But when he tried to excuse himself and get up, he found himself frozen in his seat._

 _He realized the entire dining room had gone silent. Everyone was looking at him. Their smiles looked slightly ajar._

 _The man sitting next to him leaned forward, wiping the wine from his face. When he put down the napkin, it seemed to be stained with blood._

 _"Steve Trevor," said the man. "Leaving so soon?"_

 _"General Ludendorff," Steve said, in a sudden burst of recognition for the man whose operations he had spent months spying on. A thrill of dread ran through him._ He knows my name. He knows who I am.

 _"I am afraid you may not be permitted to leave at this time," said the German, with a slow grin. "An American spy is a rarity at my dinner table. We must make an occasion of it."_

 _A door slammed behind him, and Steve felt the air closing in. Vainly he struggled to get up from his seat. He found he couldn't move a muscle._

 _Ludendorff smiled. "Shall we start with the names of your friends?"_

 _Steve stiffened. "No."_

 _Ludendorff leaned close, his breath reeking of alcohol and - to Steve's horror - the metallic tang of blood. "Their names, Herr Trevor. That is all I ask."_

 _"Never."_

 _Ludendorff's smile widened._

 _"How fortunate, then, that I already have them here with us."_

 _Disbelief stuttered in Steve's stomach. "No. No, you're lying. Liar!" he yelled._

 _A line of large men entered the room, dragging along everyone Steve had never known in the war - his fellow spies and soldiers, Sameer, Charlie, the Chief, even Frankie - all of them bound._

 _"Steve?" said Frankie, his voice cracking. "Steve, you're gonna get us outta here, right?"_

 _Steve fought to keep his own voice steady. "Yeah, kid," he said. "It's gonna be okay."_

 _"Ah yes, Herr Trevor," cackled Ludendorff. "Lie to your young comrade. He will be the first to go."_

Bang!

 _"No!" Steve screamed._

 _A red blossom appeared in Frankie's forehead. His eyes were wide. Then his body slumped with a sigh._

 _Ludendorff was cackling, his jaws bared in a terrible slavering grin. To Steve's horror, he transformed into a beast with two wolf heads, four clawed arms covered in scales. The rest of the Germans followed suit._

 _Steve's friends didn't stand a chance. And he was helpless to save them. He could only watch._

 _At last, Steve found himself released from his paralysis. Gasping, retching, he crawled to what was left of Charlie's body. To his shock, his friend seized hold of his arm._

 _"Steve," he wheezed. "Why didn't you do something? You could've - could've..."_

 _He went limp._

 _For a moment, Steve knelt there, trembling. Then, with a roar of pure rage, he turned on his captors. Only then did he see they were no longer Germans in uniform - but women wearing full armour, their arrows pointed at his chest. The Queen gave him one dismissive look._

 _"Kill him," she said._

 _Arrows drove into him like piercing-hot iron. Steve opened his mouth to scream, but found his mouth filled with salt water. Suddenly, he was back in the airplane, struggling to escape the bindings of the pilot's seat. He looked up, desperate, and saw Diana standing above him._

 _"Diana!" he shouted. "Help me, please!"_

 _She stood there. Expressionless._

 _Watching as he sank deeper into the waves._

 _No, Steve thought, even as he thrashed about. No, this isn't real. Wake up, Trevor._

 _Wake up._

* * *

Steve did not awake for three days.

It seemed an eternity to Diana, even more so because she was confined to the healing houses. For the first few hours, she was glad of it, relieved at the chance to rest her aching body and racing mind. But as time dragged on, she grew restless.

"Althaia, please let me go," she begged, on the afternoon of the first day. "I am fine, really. My wound is gone!"

But Althaia shook her head. "You have had a serious knock to the head, Diana. I have deemed you unfit for training for a few days."

Diana's jaw dropped. "That's ridiculous, though - Althaia, I tell you I feel fine! I should be out there, training, helping look for answers - "

"Diana," Althaia said, in a tone that silenced her instantly. "I told the Queen and the General what I just told you. It was the only way to excuse your - eratic behaviour of yesterday."

Diana opened her mouth to protest, then realization dawned. Althaia was right. From everyone else's point of view, Diana had been acting strangely. Defending the pilot, defying the Queen - pretty much all of her recent actions were enough cause to bring on questions too close to Steve's secret for comfort. Diana realized she had hardly been careful enough about keeping suspicion away from Steve and herself, and the airplane...although that last part didn't matter now.

She sighed. "I see. Thank you, Althaia. I - I'm sorry for my impatience."

Her friend nodded understandingly. "Do not trouble yourself, Diana. Get some rest now." She turned to leave.

"I don't suppose my mother - the Queen will come to see me?" Diana wondered out loud, as she lay back on the linen-covered bed.

"She wanted to," Althaia replied, not turning around. "But I've told no one to disturb you, lest they trigger another, ah, episode."

Diana rolled her eyes, even though it made her head hurt more than she would have liked to admit. "You make me sound like a madman."

"Well...it should keep you safe from questions. For now. Besides - it explains why you will be spending so much time at the healing houses. I trust that was in fact your plan for the next few days?"

Diana thought about Steve, lying feverish and unconscious next door. Her smile faded.

"Yes. Yes, it was. How is he?" she asked, hesitantly.

Althaia's expression darkened, and she sighed. "The infection in his leg is worse than I thought. It is partly my fault, I suppose I did not drain the wound completely yesterday. But I am working on a new balm now. The problem will be waiting for him to wake up, to get him to eat and drink. His body is sorely weakened."

"But he will recover." She didn't dare ask it as a question. To do so would be to allow for the possibility of a negative answer.

Althaia turned away. "Get some rest, Diana."

Then she was gone.

* * *

Althaia's balm turned out to be effective, although it hardly seemed that way at first. Steve did not wake up, but as the salve bubbled and hissed on his skin, he began to toss and moan in his sleep.

Diana caught hold of his hand, trying to hold him still while Althaia worked with her usual intense focus. Every time he cried out, Diana flinched involuntarily.

At last, it was all over. Althaia finally left for her own quarters, after bandaging Steve's leg with fresh linen and draping a spare blanket around Diana's shoulders. She had fallen asleep sitting at the pilot's bedside, her head in her arms.

The next two days seemed to blur in Diana's mind, perhaps because confinement in the dim room caused her to lose sense of time. All her waking energies were bent to tending to Steve in Althaia's absence. The healer was often away, preoccupied with treating the other victims of the monster's attack. Thankfully, none of them had been injured as badly as the pilot. A cut here and there, perhaps, but no poisonous bites. Still, Althaia's concoctions were in high demand, and as no one understood them as she did, she was everywhere at once.

When she did visit, she had to physically push Diana back into her own room for a few hours of sleep. But Diana already found her strength returning, so much so that she could barely stand to sit still. One night, she managed to escape to the beach. It was dark as pitch, but she traced her steps to the clearing with no difficulty.

When she finally emerged from the trees, however, the clearing was empty. No sign that the airplane had ever existed, save the dips in the gravel where it had rested its weight. The Amazons had cleared away the wreckage not long after the attack. It was as though the airplane had sunk into the sand. As though it had never been existed.

Diana sank down onto the log. She remembered the long nights of hard work they had spent, trying so hard to repair the airplane. For different reasons, yes. But they had been united in a common goal.

Now, with the airplane gone and all their endeavors wasted, Diana felt at a loss. Absently, she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out the relics she had found on the second night of her bargain with Steve. The wooden beads and the picture of the girl.

She buried them deep in the sand.

* * *

Despite Althaia's words, Diana couldn't help but hold out hope that her mother would come visit her. She did not remember ever becoming sick as a child - none of the Amazons ever did. But there had been a few minor injuries here and there: a twisted ankle from the time she ran from her tutor and straight into a hole in the ground, a cut lip from one of her sparring sessions with Antiope (it was not a wound to be proud of, as it had only been earned when Diana tripped on her own feet and fell on her face). She remembered vividly the one time she had been laid up at the healing houses, due to a fractured bone. She had been riding her horse across the fields, yelling battle cries and pretending to be a real Amazon.

 _"Stop squirming, Diana! Great Zeus, one would think you had ants in your night shirt."_

 _Diana tried to hold still as the healer wrapped her arm in cloths soaked in some material, which caused them to stiffen as they dried. But she couldn't help wriggling just a little bit - and then her mother walked in._

 _"Mumma!" To the healer's total exasperation, Diana leapt up and into her mother's arms, ignoring both her healer's and her arm's protests._

 _Mother laughed then - a warm, comforting sound. Diana closed her eyes and smiled. Everything was alright._

 _Then her mother pulled back and looked at her. Her expression was stern but her eyes twinkled. "And what were you doing to get yourself hurt this time, little one?"_

 _"I was pretending to be like you," Diana said honestly. "Pretending to be brave!"_

 _"Oh Diana," Mother said, pulling her close once more. "There is no need to pretend."_

* * *

Every day, Diana could hear the sounds of training coming from the fields. Shouted orders, the ring and clash of metal. The sound taunted her. Not only did she miss the fight - the blood running through her veins, the effortless weight of the sword in her hand - but she missed her comrades as well.

One day, quite by accident, she ran into Mala. The Amazon was just leaving a healing room, where she had most likely been visiting another injured warrior. Diana had been on her way to Steve's room to take up her place by his bedside, but she was hardly about to tell Mala that. She knew for a fact that Mala and Steve were not exactly friends.

At the sight of Diana, Mala stopped short. At first, Diana half-expected one of Mala's hearty embraces. Instead, she stood there, staring.

"So," she finally said. "How are you enjoying your leisure time, Diana?"

Diana frowned. "I would hardly call it that. It's not as though I am here by my own choice."

Mala raised her eyebrows. "Is that so? You seemed quite decisive when you left the field the other day. How is the pilot, by the way?"

Diana felt as though she had been slapped. Steve was still no better, and Mala knew it. Sharply, Diana turned to leave.

But then she heard her friend exhale behind her. "I - I'm sorry, Diana. I do not mean to hurt you."

Diana turned to look at her. To her surprise, Mala really did look remorseful. Her eyes were downcast, her shoulders slumped. Something was not right.

"It's alright, Mala. You are not yourself." Diana laid one hand gently on the Amazon's arm. "What is troubling you?"

"It's just - well, the General is running us so hard. I mean, she always has. It is the only way to make us better warriors. But these days - she asks the impossible then rebukes us when we fall short. She is not herself, either."

"And my mother?"

"I hardly ever see her anymore. I believe she spends most of her time in the archives. She and the elders are trying to figure out where that thing came from. We are all on edge. Forgive my ill temper." Mala smiled briefly. "Perhaps I am just jealous of you, resting here in comfort and luxury."

Diana smirked. "Are you sure it isn't that you miss my wonderful company?"

Her friend laughed then. "I do. We all do." They smiled at one another. Suddenly, another Amazon ran up to them.

"Mala, the General demands your presence on the field," she panted. Mala sighed.

"Farewell for now then, Diana. Get well soon - although if I was you, I would prolong my illness for as long as possible. Rest while you can."

Diana gave her a look. "Take care not to injure yourself on purpose."

Mala smiled grimly. "No promises." Then she ran off.

* * *

Her meeting with Mala was the first and last time Diana was able to get any news of the goings on outside the healing houses. She had wondered at the Amazons' decreased interest in Steve. As the first man to ever behold Themyscira, he had been quite a sensation when he first arrived.

Now, however, it seemed everyone was much too caught up in the aftermath of the attack to care much for a sick man. Diana guessed Steve had been largely forgotten by Antiope, who was focusing all her attention on her real warriors. And those warriors were preoccupied with trying not to incur the General's wrath.

But Diana did not need to leave the healing houses to feel the aura of unease that pervaded the air of Themyscira. The weather was fine - the sun blazed down with its usual brilliance, the flowers bloomed in riots. But the Amazons' hearts were troubled, Diana's own growing more troubled day by day.

The only good news was that Steve had taken a turn for the better. His skin regained some colour, and the wound in his leg was beginning to close. By nightfall, Althaia pronounced him out of danger.

And finally, on the third day, Steve awoke.

* * *

Diana rushed over to his bedside. Was it her imagination, or had his eyes fluttered open for an instant? She bent over him anxiously. "Steve?"

He groaned. When he spoke, his voice was so dry and weak she could just barely catch the words. "I would kill for a good beer right about now."

Diana wanted to sob with relief. Instead she laughed, perhaps a bit wildly. When his eyes finally opened, Diana found that there were tears of gladness in her own.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Starving."

She laughed again. "I may not be a healer, but I think I can do something to mend that."

Eagerness and relief lent speed to her feet, and within minutes Diana had returned with some wine and a plate of bread and fruit.

"It's all I could find at the moment," she said apologetically, setting down her finds on the table.

At the sight of food, a new alertness came into Steve's eyes. "It looks like a feast to me."

"You'll need to sit up," Diana told him, then paused. He looked so weak he might crumble if he so much as lifted his head. She hesitated before asking, "Do you mind if I...?"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah - sure. Please."

Kneeling beside him, she leaned down. Carefully, she wound one arm behind his back and lifted him slightly, supporting his neck with her hand. With the other, she arranged his pillows into a mound. When he was finally settled in a sitting position, she leaned back.

"How does that feel?" she asked. Then she frowned, reaching out to touch his forehead. "Are you feeling feverish again? You've gone all red."

He blinked. "What? Oh no, no - I feel fine. Thanks, Diana."

She smiled. "You are welcome, Steve."

The next half hour passed pleasantly, with Steve doing his best not to gobble down the food, and Diana bringing him up to speed on the events of the last few days - or at least, what seemed like events compared to the inactivity of her own confinement. But as to his questions concerning the monster, she had no answers.

"I don't believe anyone on Themyscira knows," she said. "At the moment, you know as much as the rest of us."

At the mention of the other Amazons, Steve frowned. "What time is it? Aren't you supposed to be training?"

"I have been deemed unfit for training due to a head injury," she said in a low voice. "My friend Althaia did it to protect you - to protect us. Otherwise I would be pressed with quite a few questions, the answers to which you probably do not want the Amazons to find out. Besides - I wanted to be here when you woke."

"Well, at least there's a couple Amazons who don't wish me dead," he said jokingly. But Diana sensed the bitterness underneath his jest.

"Steve," she burst out, "I'm sorry. For everything. For the way they've treated you. And for my mother, sending you out training even after everything you've been through. I'm sorry, do you believe me? Because if you don't, I completely understand - "

"Diana." His voice was firm. "You don't need to apologize to me for anything. You saved my _life_ , dozens of times now. So don't ever feel sorry for something you had nothing to do with. Your people's actions do not make you guilty. Okay?"

 _Your people's actions do not make you guilty_. "If only they could see that themselves," Diana sighed.

He glanced at his broken arm. "Yeah, I'm not gonna lie - I wish so too. Your friend - she's the one who made the energy potion?" he asked. Diana nodded. "Well, she's certainly very kind."

At that moment, Althaia walked in. Diana wondered humorously if she had been waiting outside this whole time. The healer's troubled face broke into a smile at the sight of Steve sitting up.

"Glad to see you awake, Steve Trevor," she said briskly, causing Diana to smile at her usually shy friend's tone. "Perhaps now I can change your bandages without you tossing and turning in your sleep."

At that, Diana noticed the pilot's expression darken. "I was having the strangest dreams," he muttered.

Althaia gave him a concerned look but did not comment. Instead, she set about opening the bandages on his leg.

"I guess I should be thanking you for not taking my entire leg off," Steve joked. But Diana could see he was in pain. As Althaia began cleaning out the wound, he inhaled sharply and the sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Hey." She took his hand, and he immediately squeezed it tightly. To distract him, she said, "Tell me about the healers of your world. Do they use potions as well?"

"You could say that," he said through gritted teeth. "We call 'em painkillers. I don't suppose you've got any of those?"

"No, but I could knock you out on the head again," she offered.

"Again?" Althaia said, eyebrows raised. Steve laughed, then winced.

"Please tell me you're almost done."

"Don't be an absolute infant, Steve Trevor," Althaia admonished him, "and for the sake of Elysium, stop squirming! You are worse than Diana was as a child!"

But she stopped teasing when she saw Steve was in much more pain than he let on. Diana saw her work with greater speed.

When it was finally over, Steve was visibly exhausted. In fact, he was so still Diana worried that he had fallen unconscious again. But Althaia seemed in high hopes.

"He will be alright Diana...and this time, I believe it will last," she said in a low voice. Then she left to tend to her other charges, her feet ever tireless. Outside, the evening was falling, veiling the stars in an ink-soaked gauze.

Diana sat quietly by the bed. With a clean cloth, she began to wipe away the sweat that had broken out on the pilot's brow. To her surprise, he stirred and opened his eyes.

"You're awake?" she whispered.

"Believe me, I could sleep for a week," he sighed. "It's just...well, it's childish I know. But - I'm afraid to. Every time I close my eyes, I see that - that _thing_. And I was having these dreams...I don't think I can bear them again."

Diana nodded, squeezing his hand in understanding. "I'm here, Steve. For as long as you need me to be."

He sighed and relaxed slightly. But every few minutes, his eyes would close involuntarily, and he'd snap awake with a gasp. Then Diana remembered what her mother used to do when she had nightmares as a child.

 _"It is only a thunderstorm, Diana."_

 _"Not in my dream it wasn't."_

 _Mother pulled her close. "What if I told you a tale of Zeus, god of lightning? Would that help?"_

 _Diana nodded._

"Have you ever heard the tale of Heracles?" Diana asked.

"Can't say I have."

"Would you like me to tell it?" He nodded, and she began. Hearing her mother's voice in her head. Speaking as softly as the breeze outside.

"He was the son of Zeus and a woman - a human girl. His mother's blood made him mortal. But his father's made him the most powerful man on earth. As a young man, he became known for his exceptional qualities. He was the fastest and the strongest at any given sport, intelligent - and he was handsome, the fairest of young mortal men."

"Sounds pretty great," Steve said wryly.

Diana chuckled. "Oh, but his life was not perfect. They say a mortal with too many gifts is a torment to the gods. Heracles was hated by the goddess Hera, who was the wife of Zeus. She was wrathful at her husband's infidelity - although she herself was hardly better in that respect. Still, her hatred grew so strong, she drove Heracles to madness, causing him to kill his entire human family."

Steve blinked. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Diana nodded. "Heracles was now cursed with more grief and guilt than any other man. The only way to be rid of his sin was to perform twelve impossible tasks for his archenemy. Only then could he be truly free."

"And...did he?" Steve asked, picking at the bed coverlet. Diana turned to look at him.

"Yes." She said it firmly. "Yes, he did. And so will you."

He gave a grim smile. "I'm not exactly a Heracles, Diana."

"That's lucky. It certainly seems it will take more than a Heracles to escape Themyscira."

He laughed in agreement. "And how do you plan to go about that?"

 _Heal you, help you regain your strength. Show you the kindness no one else here has._

 _Get you home._

"Well, to start," she said lightly, "I'd like to finish my story."

He laughed again. "Beg pardon, ma'am. Go on - please."

She went on to tell him about the Twelve Labours of Heracles, and how they became the most renowned of his many adventures. Her favourite was the tale of how he had to obtain the girdle of Hippolyta, the Queen of the Amazons herself. Her mother always described Heracles as decent, for a man, though as proud as the rest of them.

As Diana spoke, her murmur as low and rhythmic as the lapping of the waves, she could sense Steve relaxing, settling deeper into his pillow. Finally, as her tale came to an end and the moon rose over the sea, she turned to see him fast asleep. His face was peaceful, no sign of nightmares haunting his mind. On an impulse, Diana reached out, brushed the hair from his forehead with her fingers.

"I will get you out of this," she whispered. "I swear it to you."


	18. Lessons Learned

**_A/N: Hello everyone! I have an announcement to make, so please bear with me!_**

 ** _As you may know, this week marks back to school, which means it's off to college for me. It's been an exciting time getting ready...but very, very, VERY hectic. Those blessed souls who have faithfully followed along with this story ever since its early chapters are probably familiar with my tardiness in posting updates. Lately, I'm afraid I've gone from being "late" to "vanishing from the face of the earth entirely for indefinite periods of time". I apologize again and again for my late-ness! I honestly feel terrible about constantly being forced to break my promises of a more regular schedule._**

 ** _Which is why, I have decided to go on an official hiatus for a while. No more promising updates that I know I simply will not be able to deliver, because that isn't fair to anyone. Plus, I would like to be able to focus all my energy on surviving my year as a freshman (lol, what a concept). But to all and any who are still interested in seeing how this thing ends - don't worry! By no means am I abandoning this story. Come next extended school holiday, I hope to pick up the loose ends and continue from where I left off. But for now, I just wanted to let you all know of my decision to take a break for a while._**

 ** _I want to thank you all SO SO MUCH for giving this fic a shot, for reading my writing, for inspiring me and other writers, and for your patience! I appreciate it more than I can say. Y'all are the best 3 Also, I wish my fellow students luck and a kickass school year ahead!_**

 ** _Now without further ado, here is the last chapter of_ Steve Among the Amazons _...for now! Enjoy :)_**

* * *

Diana never was one to go back on a promise.

For the next few days, she tended to Steve with unwavering faithfulness. At first, Althaia seemed doubtful as to whether her dedication would last. "You are, after all, a warrior, not a healer, Diana," she remarked, her mouth quirked up in a smile.

"Perhaps it is possible to be both at a time," Diana replied.

Being the healer instead of the wounded was certainly something new in her experience. Luckily, Diana was a fast learner. It helped quite a bit that Steve was such a good charge. He took whatever dose he needed to, no matter how bitter. He succumbed to the daily routine of cleaning out his leg wound with much more patience than Diana could ever have. And, though she spent hours at a time in his company, there was never a dull moment. His humour and infinitely interesting knowledge of the outside world saw to that.

"Wait, wait, wait," Diana said once, throwing her hands up. "You are telling me that you have chariots that simply _move themselves_? Without horses?"

"Yeah, I guess you could put it that way," he agreed.

Her eyes were wide. "With what sorcery do men accomplish such miracles?"

"No magic," he laughed, "although I can't deny the Tin Lizzie really is something of a miracle." She must have looked confused, for he hastened to explain, "The Ford Model T? Nearly everyone's got one these days."

"Clearly _not_ everyone," she pointed out, causing him to laugh again.

They counted themselves lucky they were hardly ever disturbed by anyone outside the healing houses. Diana could tell that training was intensifying, as more Amazons than usual came up for healing. But they were granted less time than they normally were to recover, Althaia working overtime to restore them to fighting condition as soon as possible. Hence, Diana barely saw her Amazon sisters, let alone had the chance to talk with them.

One day, Steve was finally well enough to sit upright and move about, although Althaia still forbade any strenuous activity. It was only after Diana practically begged her that she allowed Steve to be moved out onto a porch overlooking the courtyard.

"He hasn't had sun nor fresh air for days, Althaia," said Diana, adding internally, _If I stay indoors one more second, I shall go as mad as Heracles._

Her friend sighed. "Very well. But he is not to move out of the shade, understand? I will not have him overdoing it again."

And so Diana and Steve found themselves sitting out on the porch, gazing out into an empty courtyard. For a while, they were quite content to feel the slight breeze in their hair, and hear it whispering through the trees nearby. But Diana was not the type to spend an entire day in idleness. Neither, she guessed, was Steve. Pretty soon, they were both bored and restless with inactivity.

"It's crazy, you know," Steve remarked. "I don't think I've had a day like this - nothing to do, nowhere to be - in, well, years. When the war started, there was always a mission. Always a goal. Now..." He gestured helplessly. "I might as well be back in a coma for all the good I'm doing."

Diana bit her lip. Seeing him in low spirits was almost worse than seeing him ill. She'd only known him a short time, but she had learned that he was no quitter.

Just then, a couple of young women passed by carrying reeds in heavy bundles. When they caught sight of Steve, a look passed between them. Their pace quickened, one of them deliberately looking away, the other openly staring. For a moment, Diana felt a spark of outrage at their incivility. Then her eyes fell on the reeds they carried.

Suddenly, she felt she could have blessed those two girls, rudeness and all. They had given her an idea.

"Steve, I know just what you need right now," she said, eyes twinkling. "You can learn weaving!"

He blinked. "Come again?"

She pointed at the women's retreating backs. "Those reeds they were carrying, we use them to weave baskets and such. I never was good at it, but at least it gives us something to do!"

"Umm, I don't know if that's such a good idea, Diana..."

But, her face alight, she was already halfway out of the courtyard.

* * *

Steve shook his head, smiling in disbelief as he watched her go. He had always been good at reading people - the more complicated their past, the harder it was. But it had been all in a day's work for him. Diana was the first person he had met whose past was relatively simple - if you counted out the fact that she and her people were the stuff of myth and legend. And yet, every time he thought he had her figured out, he discovered she was so much more.

Warrior, healer, maiden...and now, he wondered, _friend_? Before, she had been more of an ally, when they had worked together to reach their own goals. After the plane was destroyed, she had no more reason to help him - and yet she'd never left his side. _Why?_

Before he could continue puzzling it out, Diana returned with an armful of reeds and an elderly woman in tow. She gave a cheery smile and wave. But the older woman stalked right up to Steve and peered at him accusingly. For a moment, Steve's heart sank. The looks of the young Amazons earlier had hurt more than he liked to admit. He couldn't blame these people for mistrusting him. Still, he couldn't deny he was getting pretty damn tired of it.

But then the woman clucked her tongue and said, "Shameful. Diana tells me you have never in your life learned how to weave."

Relieved, Steve hid a smile. "I'm afraid not."

Diana jumped to his defence. "I never really learned either, you know, Dorkas."

"And not for lack of me trying to teach you," said Dorkas, crossly. "Let us hope this man is a better pupil than you were."

Steve grinned at Diana's expression. He found he rather liked the old lady. She didn't see an intruder, a _man_. All she saw was some delinquent who had never learned weaving, this apparently most crucial of life skills.

"With such a knowledgeable teacher, I will certainly endeavor to be," he told the old lady. He could see Diana rolling her eyes. But she was smiling.

Flattered, the old woman proceeded to sit and unravel her bundle. Then the lesson began.

* * *

It was certainly rough going at first. Steve's broken arm had already healed, a fact that seemed to surprise him greatly. Diana supposed that was to be expected of someone unused to the effectiveness of the healing pools. Still, his fingers were quite clumsy. Diana was not much better, and she began to wonder if this was such a good idea.

But their perseverance seemed to win Dorkas over. Steve really was eager to please, asking questions and imitating the old woman's actions. Diana looked on in amusement at his utter absorption in the task at hand. She remembered being a far less patient student.

As the afternoon went on, the previously silent courtyard was filled with the sound of their activity; Dorkas was, after all, slightly hard of hearing, and Diana and Steve were obliged to speak at a volume near shouting. Diana suddenly realized that all the commotion was drawing attention. Looking up, she saw Amazons peering curiously at them from doorways and around corners. On an impulse, she waved and motioned them over. And to her surprise, they came.

The first thing she noticed was that they were not warriors - just humble house girls, apprentices, healers, and the like. Like a flock of timid birds, they settled about Dorkas, beginning to weave baskets of their own. One of them reached out shyly and pointed at Steve's work.

"You need to tighten that braid a little," she said.

After a moment of surprise, he held it out to her. "Here - maybe you can show me?"

Then the tension broke after that. Suddenly, everyone was eager to help, a dozen soft voices chorusing every time Steve asked a question. Good-naturedly, he listened to every Amazon's advice, although their contradicting opinions were enough to drive one to bewilderment.

At first, Diana wondered at their interest and enthusiasm. Then she realized it was because they needed something good, something _normal_ after all that had happened in the past few days. She had to admit, doing something as commonplace as weaving was rather comforting even for her.

The gathered girls laughed at something Steve said, and Diana found herself smiling. She was amazed at his utter absence of resentment towards her Amazon sisters. It would have been easy for him to hate them all, after what she'd seen him go through. But he seemed to bear no undue grudge against these innocent, quiet girls, and Diana was grateful for that.

She was shaken out of her thoughts by the sounds of a commotion. It seemed Steve had finished his basket, and even Dorkas was quite pleased with the result.

"It seems men can do some things right, then," she said with satisfaction.

* * *

It was evening when they finally bid goodnight to Dorkas and the other Amazons. As he lay in bed, listening to the soft whispering lull of the sea in the distance, Steve breathed a sigh of content and peace. Crazy as it seemed, he had been much cheered by the day. If this was all it meant to live on paradise island - quiet meals in the cool indoors, weaving baskets with old ladies, and enjoying Diana's company - he could get used to it.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of something that was almost guilt. _What am I thinking?_ The war was still going on, and he was useless here. He had failed in his mission. He thought of his fellow soldiers and spies - not perfect men by a long shot, no. But they were his friends. They could be dying of the deadly gas he had seen cooking up in the lab of that sadistic witch, Dr. Maru. It would be his fault, and he'd never know.

He was filled with the urge to get up, to do something. But without the airplane, what chance did he have? Even if he had a way off the island, he had made a promise, one he no longer felt so willing to break despite the necessity. So what was he to do? He felt certain that if his head would stop aching for one damn second, he could think of a solution. Felt as though an answer was already tickling at the back of his brain, just out of reach...

God, his head hurt.

 _Focus on getting better, Trevor,_ he ordered himself. _We'll figure it out tomorrow_ _._

All he had to do was get through the nightmares.

* * *

"You're kidding."

"Kidding? What is that?"

"It's when you - when you don't - God, how do I put this? When you're not being serious."

"Oh. Well, I assure you Steve Trevor, I am being perfectly serious. Try it."

They had been wandering the palace gardens the entire morning, stopping only now to rest under the dark olive leaves of a giant tree. Diana had plucked an odd, lumpy fruit from its boughs and tossed it to Steve. "Go on, try it," she urged.

Steve gave the strange, baseball-sized thing a dubious glance. He was usually quite open-minded about trying different and new foods. He still remembered the one time he and Chief had gamely sampled some of what Charlie called his "Granny's Moonshine". It had tasted like gasoline and burnt socks all at once. But at least it had helped them all forget the horrors of the battlefield not six miles off, just for one evening.

But taking a bite out of a lumpy alien blob grown on a mystical island was a whole other matter. "Thanks, but I think I'm good."

Diana shook her head in mock disappointment. "You are missing out, you know." She sat next to him on the grass, and plucked the fruit from his hand.

"It is a strange fruit, I admit," she said, turning it over in her hands. "It is not at all inviting, at least to the eyes of those who do not know it. And it is particularly stubborn - its shell remains rock-solid for much of the season, and force will not open it. But with enough care and patience, it eventually opens up of its own accord, yielding the sweetest reward." She tossed it up into the air, caught it, and bit into the fruit. "But I ramble. You probably think me crazy, hm?"

When Steve didn't answer, she turned to look at him. At his expression, her face took on one of concern. "What is it, Steve? Is it something I said? Or am I just talking too much?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, no!" he assured her. "I was just...lost in thought is all."

She shrugged and went back to her fruit. But though he sat as still as before, Steve's mind was racing.

That was it. He needed to change tactics. He needed to stop fighting against the Amazons, trying to break their laws and escape on his own. All that led to was a dead end. He had to start working with them instead. When the queen decreed he learn their ways, everyone - him included - had jumped straight to training. But these people were more than just warriors. They had an entire culture and history unique to them alone. Until he learned that culture and history, he would never get anywhere. He needed to understand them, so as to get them to understand _him_. Only then could he gain their trust - and possibly their help. Perhaps Steve could do more than return to his friends; he could bring help, something to turn the tide and end the war.

The Amazons were a tough fruit to crack. It would take time, and patience. Steve didn't know how much he had left of either. But he did know one thing.

Maybe it would be slow going at first. Maybe it had already begun, over something as simple as basket weaving. So if starting out meant weaving baskets, then hell, Steve would weave until his fingers fell off. Because he was damn tired of sitting around, waiting for an opportunity. His father once told him luck didn't exist until you made it for yourself. "Luck," he'd said, half-jokingly, "is a gift that the gods don't give to folks that aren't ready to pay the highest price."

Steve drew a deep breath. Then he turned to Diana.

"Got any more of that fruit?"

She gave a surprised smile. "Changed your mind so soon?"

He smiled back. "You may have had something to do with it. So, what else do you guys grow around here?"

* * *

That day marked the beginning of Steve's personal mission to find out everything he could about the Amazons and their way of life. He questioned Diana on their history, how they came to be - did it really happen the way the old myths said? He asked Althaia about her potions, trying to find the fine line between magic and science that the houses of healing seemed to exist on. His continued interest always brought a look into her face, a sort of triumphant _Here's someone who appreciates what I do_ expression. And despite their shyness, he eventually got the house maidens who came in occasionally with water and linens and such, to talk about their own lives - what did they do in their spare time? From tales of ancient wars to the intricacies of embroidery, there was nothing that Steve considered unimportant or irrelevant. As one of his instructors back at boot camp once said, "If you want to know how a man ticks, start by asking how he takes his coffee."

Finally, his leg was healed enough to allow for prolonged periods on his feet. As soon as Althaia (reluctantly) gave her permission for him to walk about, he turned to Diana. "We've toured the entire garden a dozen times over," he said. "Anything else you think I should see?"

Her nose crinkled slightly, the way it did when she was thinking. Then she gave him a slow smile. "You seem to want to learn about our history. Suppose we start with the palace?"

He was already nodding his agreement when a thought occurred to him. "But what if - your mother...?"

She shrugged. "We shall stay out of her way." She was trying to look nonchalant, but he wasn't fooled. He knew her mother had not visited the houses of healing since the attack. He couldn't figure out why, and neither, it seemed, could Diana.

But along the walk to the palace, she seemed to forget her troubles for a while. The white streets were quite empty of Amazons, which was strange. Still, the trees were singing with unseen birds, and the sun blazed down from an electric sky. Steve tilted up his face to soak in the light, and saw Diana doing the same. They were both starved for a little sun, it seemed. Suddenly Diana looked at him and laughed.

"What?" Steve asked, smiling.

"I just do not think you're going to get any sun underneath all that beard," she said with a grin. For a moment, Steve blinked rather stupidly. Finally he touched a hand to his cheek, making Diana laugh even more.

"I can't believe I never noticed it," he said disbelievingly. "I mean, I noticed you guys don't have many mirrors about. Still, I never even thought about it." It suddenly hit him what a long time he'd spent laid up at the houses of healing.

At last they reached the palace, and wandered about for the rest of the afternoon. It was pleasantly silent and cool beneath the white marble arches that soared overhead. Their feet padded quietly from hall to hall, corridor through corridor. To Steve's surprise, they met nearly no one. When he questioned Diana about it, she explained her mother was consulting with the elders in the inner chambers.

"That is our custom, in times of doubt," she said. "They are trying to discover how the beast appeared here. From what I hear, they have had no clues yet."

Soon after she changed the subject, turning to the gilded frescos that splashed across the walls, sometimes even creeping up onto the ceiling like intertwining vines. They portrayed beautiful, picturesque scenery populated by half-naked men and women - something that would have made Steve slightly more uncomfortable if not for the fact that he felt as though he was witnessing something sacred. Every now and then he found himself rubbing his eyes and staring at the paintings. Was it just him, or were they...moving?

They paused in front of a scene situated between two arches. It depicted two warrior women astride white horses, brandishing swords and silver banners. In the shadows beneath the horses' hooves, strange nameless beasts appeared to be writhing into oblivion. Steve felt simultaneously awed and terrified by the scene.

"This was my favourite painting as a child," Diana said. "The fierceness of the Amazons, the strength of the gods that allowed them to do good, save the world...it seemed I could see it all so clearly."

Still studying the painting, Steve asked, "And how about now? Which one is your favourite?"

She smiled. "This one." She led him to another, smaller painting. It showed a young girl, a dreamy expression on her face. In one hand, she held a bunch of wildflowers. In the other, she gripped a sword.

"Beautiful, isn't it," said Diana, softly. "Somehow, there's something magical about the coexistence of delicate beauty with relentless strength."

He turned to watch her, but she didn't seem to notice. She was staring at the wall, oblivious and unaware that her expression matched that of the painted girl.

"Yes," said Steve. "There really is."

* * *

Steve later marveled that though they went back to the palace almost every chance they had, there was never a day they did not discover something new to him. Whether by a trick of magic or architecture, the palace seemed even huger on the inside than it did without.

Or perhaps it was the sheer amount of history and meaning behind every object that made the palace seem so vast to Steve. A single chamber could encompass decades of knowledge and wisdom. He began to learn the various customs of the Amazons, down to the little rituals they performed daily. One of the customs of most interest to him, however, was that of the warrior's initiation.

"All Amazon warriors must pass a final test or challenge, before they take up their places by the General's side," Diana explained. "Of course, all of the warriors here passed their challenges long ago, even before I was born."

"And you?" Steve asked, simultaneously wondering if he himself was supposed to pass some challenge. _As if training itself wasn't a challenge all on its own._

She blushed. "I have not...well, I was never given a challenge. My mother would not allow it. But someday, she will. She has to."

But not all their time was spent up at the palace. After word of his basket weaving session spread, it seemed Steve was now considered Themyscira's most eligible helping hand by the house maidens and wise women of the healing houses. Once they realized he was in fact capable and willing to learn, there was no shortage of opportunities for him to learn a new skill. Steve was caught up in a whirlwind of a bewildering variety of lessons, from painting to gardening to _sewing_. That last one was especially hard, seeing as the most needlework he'd ever done was stitching up another man's wounded leg - not an experience he particularly wanted to remember nor repeat.

Still, he'd pegged away at it, helped by the Amazons' encouragement, which could be gentle or scolding depending on who he was with. Diana seemed to get a real kick out of the time Dorkas hit him over the head with the basket he had quite unintentionally mangled. He'd taken his revenge later by pulling one of Diana's own braided reeds loose, causing her to pelt him with bits of twine, invoking the old lady's wrath. As Steve pulled twine and dried grass out of his hair, Diana laughed until the tears came into her eyes. For a moment, with the loose hair curling at her neck and falling across her face, she looked like a young girl, happy and carefree.

* * *

Steve wasn't the only one learning about a new world. One afternoon, as the heavens cracked open and a deluge of warm rain veiled the island in a veil of slate, Steve and Diana were sitting on the porch attempting to repair a broken table leg, when Diana said,

"Tell me about your friends, the ones you always mention. Frankie, Charlie. Who are they?"

When he glanced at her, she shrugged. "It's just...this brings me back to repairing the airplane. Since then, I haven't seen - or heard - much of your own world."

He chuckled. "I promise, my world doesn't even hold a candle to yours. Especially not now, with the war going on. Where I come from...let's just say it's a mess."

"So tell me." Her eyes gave him pause. "Tell me what makes you want to go back, mess and all."

He pretended to muse. "Besides the fact that I haven't had a good beer in forever?"

"Believe me, Steve Trevor," she replied, rolling her eyes, "our brews are strong enough that you could wake up in a palm tree the morning after and not know how you got there."

He grinned. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got beat up with Charlie in a bar?"

"Am I correct in assuming there may be multiple tales that could fit into that category?"

"...Okay, yes. But this time was different, I swear. Don't laugh! You see, it was our first night back from a mission..."

* * *

"You are looking well, Diana," Althaia was saying, with satisfaction.

Diana smiled and leaned her head against her friend's shoulder. They were sitting outside the healing houses, enjoying a rare moment of quiet. Below them, the island was slumbering under a sky like a bowl full of stars. "It's all thanks to you, you know, my dear friend."

"Well, I do not feel quite right taking all the credit," the healer said thoughtfully, but Diana could hear a smile in her voice. "I had a great deal of help."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Steve Trevor," Althaia replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They say laughter is the swiftest remedy, but I never believed it until now."

Diana's head jerked up and she peered incredulously into her friend's face. To her relief, she saw a mischievous grin. Her friend was only teasing.

"Great gods, Althaia. For a moment I though you were actually serious. My trust in your judgement as a healer went down very quickly."

Althaia chuckled at that. "But you cannot deny, the way you two keep each other in good spirits is working wonders for your recovery. If all my charges were as good as you, I would be a merry woman."

"Oh, hush. I'm sure it is just the air, it does me plenty of good." To demonstrate, Diana took a couple of deep breaths. She may have been overdoing it, for Althaia frowned.

"Be that as it may, I am very glad that you seem to be fond of each others' company. Really, one would think you two had known each other for much longer than the past few days."

"Don't be silly, Althaia," scoffed Diana, to hide her alarm. Of course, Althaia had known about their midnight airplane repairs. But any louder, and she wouldn't be the only one in on the secret. "With our rooms so near one another, we could hardly help becoming acquainted."

"It probably doesn't hurt that he is not exactly unpleasant to look upon," said Althaia slyly.

"Althaia!" Aghast, Diana looked about, seized by the unreasonable fear that Steve might have overheard.

"I am just saying!" The healer put her hands up. "I may soon find myself short of your company, being old and gray and no match for a younger alternative - "

Here Diana interrupted her friend with a playful punch on the arm. Still laughing, Althaia bid her good night and fairly fled into the house. Diana found she was relieved to see her go, if only it meant the teasing would stop. Still, she couldn't deny it felt good to be friends with Althaia again. Althaia, who never felt truly at ease with anyone else. Of course she had only been teasing, Diana reassured herself.

Still, when she reached up with her fingers, she found her cheeks were warm.

* * *

Steve had seen the sun rise over the glittering skyline of New York, the blue mazes of Paris, and even the Alps. But nothing compared to the sunrises here in Themyscira.

He had awoken earlier than usual, snapping awake after a particularly terrible nightmare. Since he'd been out and about, filling his mind with thoughts other than that of the beast, his dreams had decreased in frequency and horror. Still, every now and then, he'd awake in a cold sweat. This morning had been one of those times.

He had shivered in his bed until the faint sounds of fair voices reached his ears. Sitting up in the dark, he listened. He could see torchlight in one of the stone archways in the palace, one that he knew led to one of the shrine-like temples. It was an Amazon ritual, one familiar to Steve by now. Every morning, the rise and fall of chanting women seemed to usher in the sun's light.

Usually he would wait for Diana to rise before leaving the healing houses. After all, he was still a prisoner, so he supposed that made her his somewhat informal guard. This morning, however, his curiosity was too strong. Hurrying into his clothes - a simple tunic and leather breeches - he left the house and began to make his way to the palace.

As his steps led him through the slumbering gardens, it seemed to him he was caught in some sort of trance. Enchanted by the music, he imagined for a moment that he had no choice but to follow its sweet and eerie sound. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard before. Was it him, or did the rising sun's rays reach higher with each note? Whatever the case, it was one of the most beautiful sunrises he had ever witnessed.

Before he knew it, he found himself in the palace. Straining his ears, he tried to follow the singers. But the echoing of the marble halls was disorienting. To his bewilderment, he found himself in a part of the palace he had never seen before. This in itself was hardly a new experience. But he'd never been alone without Diana before.

 _Well, dammit,_ he thought. He found he couldn't even remember how he'd gotten here. _What kind of spy doesn't even know directions?_

But it would do no good to stand about and beat himself up about it. Finally, he pushed through the nearest door he found hidden in the tapestry lining the walls. Cautiously, he stepped through.

The first thing he noticed was the strange light. He was still inside, no doubt. In fact, the room was incredibly dim and the air musty. But the ceiling was lit in a golden fluorescent glow, reflecting the light down into the cathedral-like space. But he was not inside a church or a temple at all. It was a library.

Scrolls sprawled across long oak tables, spilling over their edges like waterfalls of ink and parchment. Ancient tomes lined the stone walls in gilded shelves carved into wooden beams. Steve could practically feel the weight of ancient knowledge weighing on him, calling him to unlock its secrets. Amazed and curious, he wandered forward. Then he froze.

He was not alone.

A figure stood in the shadows. Steve had to resist the urge to jump when he saw it. "Who's there?" he said, sharply.

"The owner of the very library you are trespassing in," the figure replied.

"I just lost my way," Steve said, carefully.

A low laugh. "Would you be referring to your accidental discovery of this room? Or this island? You do seem to find a lot of things accidentally, don't you...Steve Trevor."

Steve tensed. "Who - who are you?"

Another low laugh, and the figure stepped into the light.

"Your Highness," said Steve as realization dawned. Internally, all he could think was, _Shoulda stayed in bed, Trevor._

For it was Hippolyta. Queen of the Amazons.

"Steve Trevor," she said amiably, but her smile was far from friendly. "I am glad you came. We have much to discuss."


End file.
